


Under Dragon Wings

by bafflinghaze



Series: Under Dragon Wings Extended Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Draco Malfoy, Discrimination Against Slytherins, Draco Malfoy centric, Dragon Draco Malfoy, Drama, Good (??????????) Draco Malfoy, Grey-Eyes White Dragon, Harry Resorts Into Slytherin, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magic, Magical Theory, Melodrama probs, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Powerful Draco Malfoy, Rituals, Sentient Hogwarts, Silver Trio, Slow Build, Slytherins, Thestrals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 113,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: Being able to turn into a dragon is not all its cracked up to be, not when Draco has to navigate an increasingly fractious Hogwarts, Death Eaters, and anti-Death Eaters—and lead his Slytherins to safety through all of it.And if Potter becomes one of his Slytherins, then he’ll have to...treat him nicely too.(the horror!)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Under Dragon Wings Extended Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072355
Comments: 1247
Kudos: 1656





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting every Sunday ~~[and hopefully increasing to Wednesdays too after I finish posting[matcha & milk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968954/chapters/57650287) and I finish writing my phd thesis...]~~
> 
> Alpha reading and cheerleading from [Alpacapricot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpacapricot) and [notealeft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notealeft) and extra cheerleading by [toutcequonveut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toutcequonveut) 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗
> 
> This is the final result from DRAFT 6. Aka, it took me six times to get this started and flowing. Final estimated length: ~~80k????~~
> 
> ...Also, I almost called this "Grey Eyes White Dragon ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐" (with the stars)...

It’s cold—October in Scotland, of course. But Draco doesn’t feel the chill, not with the fire-warmth in his belly.

A thestral nudges it boney head into Draco’s side. Draco bares his big sharp teeth back, but the thestral is undeterred, and a couple of other colts and fillies trot over to Draco’s warmth.

Draco lifts his head for a moment, and then flops back down with a huff of smoke and flames. He’s even more disgruntled by the thestral foals scrambling up his tail in an attempt to get onto his back. The _daft_ little things, his scales are _smooth_ , and their legs were still unsteady as fuck.

The leader of the thestral herd neighs, a dismissal of Draco’s complaints and a firm rebuke to stop moving in one as she tilts one brilliant white eye towards Draco rather meaningfully. She ruffles her bony wings, clawed thumb glinting sharp.

Draco huffs again, wriggling his body out of principle. The baby thestrals are _not_ cute, making their little whuffling noises and stumbling around, no matter what their herd leader seems to think.

But Draco’s not foolish enough to engage the entire herd in battle, despite the fact that they had herded _him_ from his maiden flight of the Forbidden Forest. (He has _principles_ , and he has no appetite for crispy-fried thestrals.) So instead he _deigns_ to lie in place in this glade in the Forbidden Forest. 

With each breath, he settles. The burning need to take the dragon form fades, as does the weirdness of the form itself: six limbs, counting his wings; the extra stomach filled with fire.

It’s the second time he’s ever taken this form, and it’s starting to feel more like _himself_.

No students, no teachers, no fucking Slytherin Head of House, and herd dynamics that Draco needn’t worry about.

The juvenile thestrals are like the junior-years Slytherins, Draco thinks lazily. No fear after the adults give authorisation. Often, no fear before that too.

Draco grumbles with annoyance when an entire cluster of thestrals bump their heads against his, making little chuffing sounds. They nudge at his limbs. _What_ —

 _Thump thump thump_ , of heavy footsteps.

“ _—Must be ‘round here somewhere—_ ” Hagrid’s voice pricks Draco’s ears.

Draco lurches to his feet, and all of a sudden he can smell that deep scent of _Harry Potter_.

“ _What did who say it was?_ ” Potter’s voice is tiny compared to Hagrid’s boom. But Draco recognises it perfectly.

“ _Just a new creature in the Forest—_ ”

 _Oh, just_ brilliant.

Grunting, Draco squeezes his eyes shut and forces the reverse transformation. The world shrinks, and he feels tiny...and _cold_. His robes had been lost in the initial transformation. The baby thestrals cluster around him, trying to protect Draco’s modesty, but it’s not going to work.

Summoning clothes wandless is _Blaise’s_ forte. Draco pulls a face and does his best. No time for pants, he summons a pair of trousers from his Hogwarts wardrobe, and manages to get them on just in time as Potter and Hagrid emerge from the Forest.

“Ah, the thestrals’ glen,” Hagrid says loudly. “I should’ve taken more meat with me!” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and pulls out what meat he _does_ have, and some of the baby thestrals leave their protect-Draco-detail, the traitors.

Just in time for Draco to lock eyes with Potter.

“M- _Malfoy?_ ” Potter gapes, eyes drifting down Draco’s chest. And stays there.

Draco rolls his eyes. Is Potter really that surprised about the Sectumsempra scars on his chest? Or the faded Dark Mark on his arm? He summons one of his robes; the buttons down the center front do themselves up, but Potter keeps staring. Draco inwardly shrugs. Maybe Potter’ll learn something about fashion.

“Malfoy! You’re a friend of the thestrals!” Hagrid beams.

Draco scoffs. “ _Professor_ Hagrid,” he drawls, “I’m _not_ their friend.”

 _LICK_ goes one of the thestrals to Draco’s face. Draco shoves the thestral back. “ _Behave_ ,” he chides it. He scorgifies himself, and gives Potter and Hagrid a refined nod. “Have a good day, Professor. Potter.” It takes a bit of pushing to leave the thestrals, but Hagrid and Potter don’t stop him.

*

Pansy jumps on him the moment he returns to the Slytherin Dungeons.

“Are you feeling better now?” she says lowly. “If you want, I could leave Garren a little _gift_.”

Draco’s shoulders tense. “Don’t bother,” he says, “Dear Professor Garren is not worth it.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Shit about being an obedient little boy,” Draco curls his upper lip. Or rather, Garren had called him a _disrespectful little upstart,_ had said _you should be grateful the Ministry let a Death Eater like you back here_. If anything, _Garren_ is the upstart.

“He should speak with my father, I’m sure they’ll get along, if it weren’t for the fact that they’ll hex each other.”

Pansy makes an expression of distaste. “Where did you go? I thought you were going to go flying, but you weren’t by the Quidditch pitch.”

“I was in the Forbidden Forest,” Draco says truthfully enough. He hasn’t told her about his dragon form because...she would have noticed if he had undergone the procedure for an animagus transformation, which he _hadn’t_.

However, there is something in Pansy’s tone—why had she looked for him? Draco has been gone for a few hours at most.

Draco surveys the Slytherin Commons. Given that classes have ended for the day, and that it is _Friday evening_ , the Commons is surprisingly quiet. Even the student signing with the merpeople by the glass window is making subdued movements.

“Pans, what happened?” 

Pansy grimaces, and informs him of an altercation turned violent. A number of Slytherins had incurred injuries heavy enough to warrant an overnight stay in the Hospital Wing, and a number more have gotten detention.

“Just our luck that Professor Garren was the one who caught them,” she mutters.

Draco shuffles the names around in his mind, and summons some parchment for the updated schedule of the next day. With some of the older students out of action, he’ll have to stretch the guard detail for the younger kids.

He knows that will make them even more exposed. It’s not sustainable, and each of the eighth and seventh years will have to work harder. Already, he’s recruited some of the sixth years into escorting the lower years.

If only they could get some kind of help. But it’s not as though Draco can just precast shield charms and have the kids carry them around. It’s not as though Draco could somehow transfer their injuries to himself, so that only one person would be out of action...

Blaise returns a while later with the second and first years Jamie Ottley and Alyss Singh respectively. Blaise has braided Alyss’s hair again, weaving in green ribbon.

Pansy and Draco, who are currently seated on the Eighth Year throne sofa of black velvet and gold-gilt frame, both turn to them.

“Good evening, Pansy, Draco,” he greets, the corner of his mouth upturned in a cool, amused smile. “The elves are _more_ than happy to provide a dinner service right here.” He nods to the two kids. “They couldn’t say no to _them_.”

Draco bites back a snort. Blaise’s own smooth words no doubt played a role. Draco will have to be wary about any elves falling in love with him and professing their new allegiance. McGonagall would _not_ be happy.

“Yeah! They were so _cool_ ,” Jamie gushes, light brown eyes sparkling. “They even gave me hot chocolate!”

“ _Before_ dinner _?_ ” Draco drawls. He inwardly grins at Jamie’s wide-eye look. “Just make sure to eat your vegetables.”

“Er—yes sir!”

“They were very nice,” Alyss says quietly.

Draco hums and dismisses them. Jamie runs off to join his friends, while Alyss heads over to the other first years.

Blaise takes a seat on the Eighth Year throne sofa. He presses right up against Draco as he’s wont to do. Pansy grumbles as she’s forced to budge over.

“Finished your charms work?” Blaise asks, summoning his papers.

“Badges,” Draco says suddenly. Ideas are pulling together in his mind, sliding into place. “ _Badges_.”

Pansy laughs. “What? Did you think of an even better catchphrase than _Potter Stinks_?”

Draco nudges Pansy in the side in retaliation. “Impervious charms are imbued in make-up,” Draco says. “Why can’t we enchant shield charms into badges?”

Pansy glares half-heartedly as she rubs her side. “It’s a good idea. But one for _everyone_? We may have reduced Slytherin numbers since the war,” she says, voice dry, “but you’re not the fourth year you once were.”

Draco smirks. “Why, I accept your offer to help.”

Pansy rolls her eyes. “Not everyone is a genius at charms like you.”

“ _Well_ …”

“Modesty is unbecoming,” Blaise says.

“I’ll get the fifth years to help,” Draco decides. “It’ll be good for their OWLS.” He gets up, and heads over to the clusters of fifth years to recruit minions for his plans.

*

Despite the new meal service in the Slytherin Commons courtesy of the house elves and Blaise’s silver words, Slytherin House still needs to make a showing at dinner, and so Draco is down in the Great Hall with Pansy and Blaise and a variety of the other Slytherins.

Potter is _definitely_ staring. In any other year, it would have been normal. However, Potter _hadn’t_ been watching Draco when school started again.

Draco can feel his peaceful, green-eyes-black-curls-Potter-free days slipping away like the wind. He turns back to his friends, and frowns when he realises they’re looking at him.

“Mn,” Blaise says with that _look_ in his eye. “ _I’ve_ heard that Potter’s seen you naked.”

“Finally—” Pansy starts, but Draco slaps a _Siliencio_ on her.

“He has _not_ ,” Draco retorts.

Pansy smirks as she pulls off the Silencio. “Protesting too much?”

Draco ignores her, and flags down Felicity Shafiq, seventh year prefect and in charge of going-ons outside Slytherin House. “Felicity, any information on Potter?”

Felicity looks at Pansy, and the two of them exchange looks ( _traitors_ ).

“In fact, there is,” Felicity says. “I saw Potter in the Rituals section in the Library this evening. Told _his_ friends that it was _extracurricular_.”

“You’re extracurricular!” Pansy cackles. “Were you _really_ out in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Were you doing a naked beautifying ritual when Potter _caught_ you?” Blaise leers.

“I hate you both,” Draco says, giving them a distasteful look. “I don’t need a ritual, just my _beauty sleep_ which you two keep interrupting!”

Pansy doesn’t stop laughing. “Don’t look now, I think Potter’s—”

To be contrary, Draco looks over to the Gryffindork’s table in time to meet Potter’s bright green eyes across the Great Hall. Potter quickly looks away, as does Draco.

“Shall I assign someone to watch Potter for you?” Felicity says with a straight face.

“No need,” Blaise says, “Draco can watch Potter himself.”

“Look, desserts’ out,” Draco says pointedly.

In the background, under the loud talking of the Great Hall, he can hear, _“Ugh, what are **they** laughing about?” “He wasn’t punished at all for what he did…”_

*

Draco automatically looks up when the Slytherin passageway opens. Felicity Shafiq hurries in, mouth set in a frown as she heads over to Draco and his friends.

“Is there a problem?” Draco asks. 

“Professor Garren’s coming,” Felicity says, face dark, hand worrying the thick braid over her shoulder. “He’s heading down the stairs as we speak.”

“He didn’t _say_ ,” Pansy scowls.

“He’s our Head of House, he’s _above_ scheduling ahead,” Draco drawls.

All of Hogwarts knows Professor Garren as the new, young Head of Slytherin and Hogwarts Potions Professor. Everyone in Slytherin knows that Garren doesn’t care an inch about them.

But McGonagall might have pulled her eyes away from the other houses long enough to notice the low turn-out of Slytherins at dinner, and Garren _does_ care about appearances.

“Everyone, gather your homework! Act natural!” Draco orders. With Blaise’s help, they reset the Slytherin Commons, hiding away all the extra bookshelves and desks and tables and snacks and sofas and charming over the central firepit. A couple of first years pull out a game of Exploding Snap—Draco gives them an approving nod; _everyone_ doing their homework would appear unnatural.

Once everyone is in place, Draco arranges himself on Pansy’s lap, Potions text hovering over him—it’s about making potion variants of spells, but he’s charmed it to the NEWTs textbook.

“You’re such a Pansy-boy,” Blaise says goodnaturedly, just as the Slytherin entrance opens.

Professor Richard Garren steps into Slytherin. He’s not the first Ravenclaw to stand in the Slytherin Commons, but he’s certainly an _unwanted_ one. With brown hair and blue eyes and pale skin and a smile on his face, he’s text-book innocent.

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Garren says with a charming, self-deprecating smile. That smile tightens when he sees Draco.

Draco languidly sits up, face expressionless. Garren wouldn’t dare to argue with Draco in front of so many people.

“Of course not, sir,” Blaise says with an even _more_ charming smile. “How can we help you, sir?”

Garren scans the Slytherin Commons, and turns his gaze back to Draco and his friends. “Call everyone down, I have some announcements and information about Halloween.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco says obediently, tone just shy of mocking.

Inwardly, he’s scoffing. They celebrate _Samhain_. But Garren’s a muggleborn, and he’s probably at _least_ secular christain, so of _course_ he’ll push All Hallow’s Eve instead.

It takes a few minutes for all the Slytherins to congregate. The upper years take the sofas, arranging them to face Garren, while the lower years sit on the carpet.

“As you know, Halloween is next Saturday,” Garren says. “Headmistress McGonagall has allowed for a Halloween feast, and encourages everyone to dress up. There’s no trick-or-treating, but there _will_ be a prize for the best costume. It will start at four in the evening, and will end by nine. Dinner will be served at the usual time in the Hall. If there are any after parties...I didn’t hear of it,” Garren adds with a wink.

Some of the Slytherins give forced chuckles.

Garren smiles, straightening. “If any students would like to volunteer to help set up the Great Hall, please come to me tomorrow morning. That’s all, have a good evening.” Garren dismisses them, but stands there, watching. The lower years shift, but they don’t leave, glancing towards Draco.

Subtly, Draco nudges Blaise, and with good humour, Blaise goes up to speak with Garren and leads him out of Slytherin.

Draco makes an annoyed sound in his throat. “Our Samhain will still proceed,” he tells the Slytherins, now congregating around him. He outlines the slight modifications with the Halloween event—just because it goes for long doesn’t mean they have to attend for the entire duration. In fact, the other houses would _rejoice_ if the Slytherins leave early.

Pansy writes down the changes and hands out the copies of the written schedule, and Draco notes down names of volunteers who will help with the Great Hall set-up.

With that done, Draco grabs his recruited ~~minions~~ fifth years for his badge project and takes them all to Severus’s office. The door to the office opens easily under Draco’s touch, charmed lights turning on.

Severus’s front office has remained mostly untouched—Draco only uses his late godfather’s books. The potions laboratory, however, has been put to use.

Half of the group is put to work on the potion form of the Shield Charm, and the other half on the making of the physical badges. Draco calculates how to bring it all together, arithmancy calculations and potions theory notes scattered across sheaves of parchment: how long the badges should soak, how the shield activation itself will occur. What they hack together by midnight is hardly perfect, but it’s something.

“Good work everyone,” he tells them as they walk wearily back to Slytherin. “Have a lie in tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday _already_ ,” Vaisey Owler says, pointedly casting a _Tempus_. “And I have Quidditch practice tomorrow—I mean today.”

Draco waves him off. “Do Slytherin proud,” he says drily.

“Thanks, Draco,” Vaisey Owler says, rolling his eyes.

The fifth years trudge up to their dorms, leaving the Slytherin Commons empty but for an insomniac third year. Draco has a quiet word with them, but all they want is a hot chocolate, which Draco provides. With that, he heads up to his own bed.

Draco’s the only Eighth Year Slytherin who’s _forced_ to come back to Hogwarts—it’s part of his parole terms. When Draco had been escorted to Platform 9 ¾ by his parole Auror, he hadn’t expected any of his friends.

But Pansy and Blaise came, and Draco tries not to think about what kind of miserable fuck he would have been without them. And he doesn’t fault Greg for staying away—he knows Greg is happier working his community service hours than going back to school.

With the three of them, Pansy’s moved into the boys Eighth Year dorm, and Blaise's transfigured the two beds into a giant one. They didn’t sleep together before the War. But Draco’s glad for their company now.

“You’re finally back,” Pansy says with a yawn in voice. She doesn’t lift her head, instead raising a lazy arm. “Hurry up, you’re warm.”

“I’m not a walking warming charm,” Draco says back.

“Hmm, might be the best career you can hope for,” Pansy says languidly.

Draco rolls his eyes, but speeds up his bedtime routine. He slips into bed between Blaise and Pansy. His friends are like those thestrals, he thinks, snuggling up to him for warmth.

He can bet the world that the Dark Lord hadn’t thought of _this_ particular use for him.

  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _Draco tries not to think about what kind of miserable fuck he would have been without them._  
> 
> 
> In draft 2 of this story, there was no Pansy and Blaise and indeed Draco was very miserable haha.
> 
> Also, human-heater Draco was inspired by human-heater Zuko!
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
>  **Harry** , reading books about naked rituals and being extremely studious while glancing at the Marauder's Map and sketching out a certain semi-naked figure: >:(
> 
>  **Harry** *grumbling under his breath*: He’s definitely up to something!
> 
>  **Ron** slowly backing away, whispering to Hermione: It’s Malfoy again, isn’t?


	2. Chapter 2

Next morning, Draco distributes pepper-ups to sleepy fifth years who’d helped him, and the prototype badges to some fourth years to test out. The elves seem to have taken initiative ( _or_ a certain someone in Slytherin whose name starts with B has talked to them some more) because a breakfast table appears in the Slytherin Commons, complete with teas and coffees and the enticing scent of fresh, delicate pastry.

It’s with a regretful sigh that Draco heads out with Pansy, and a group of lower years, to the Great Hall for breakfast to maintain appearance. 

Potter arrives to breakfast a bit after, looking like he’s slept in his robes, and Granger and Weasley come strolling in after him, hand-in-hand.

_Third wheel, poor Potter_.

“You used to send sonnets about Potter to your mum, didn’t you?” Pansy whispers into his ear. Draco jerks away.

“I did _not_ ,” he scoffs, tilting his chin up. “ _You_ were the one waxing poetry about Ravenclaw girls.” The owls come at the perfect time, and Draco unfolds his Saturday _Daily Prophet_.

> _**GREYBACK MAULS WIZARD!** _
> 
> **__** _A wizard has been mauled by prominent werewolf **Fenrir Greyback** last night. _
> 
> _Fenrir Greyback, who was part of You-Know-Who’s coalition, has been sighted around Norfolk, East of England and is suspected of the violent deaths of cattle property earlier this week._
> 
> _The victim, identified by the local community as beloved farmer Kyle Magby, was doing rounds of his property when werewolf Greyback attacked. His shouts alerted his neighbours, who helped scare off the werewolf._
> 
> _Aurors failed to quickly respond on scene. By the time they arrived, Greyback was long gone. The victim is now under surveillance in St. Mungos undergoing a new experimental treatment to remove all traces of lycanthropy._
> 
> _“He wasn’t alone!” an eyewitness told the_ Daily Prophet _. “Greyback’s been gathering a new Death Eater group, I swear!”_
> 
> _The Ministry promised swift reprisal to any Death Eaters and their sympathisers._
> 
> _“We are the British Aurors, and it is our duty to keep Britain safe,” Head Auror Robards told the media in a press conference earlier this morning. “We have already detained three suspects who are undergoing stringent interrogation. There will be zero tolerance.”_
> 
> _*_
> 
> _[Ministry advertisement directly below the article]_
> 
> _Have YOU seen any death-eater activity or suspicious behaviour? See it, report it, and keep Britain safe!_

Fucking _Greyback_.

And of course, the _Prophet_ had to name the victim. All the better to know a potential future werewolf of the bastard had the luck to survive, despite the fact that it _wasn’t_ a full moon and hence wouldn’t be lycanthropic.

Draco skims through the rest of the paper, but there’s nothing else interesting aside from the weather forecast for Samhain.

“Draco?” Pansy glances at him, then to the newspaper.

“Later,” he says. “We have to finish our Transfiguration paper next, don’t we?”

Pansy accepts his change of topic, but Draco’s only half listening to her. He can hear the whispers around the Great Hall. Can feel their gazes. He knows they’ll get worse outside the presence of the professors.

“ _There’s definitely a Death Eater here.”_

_“Wonder if **someone**_ **__**_will report him…”_

_“Why did he come back to Hogwarts? He should be in Azkaban with the rest of the filthy Death Eaters.”_

_“We should teach him a lesson. Look at him, he doesn’t even **care**_.”

_“If it weren’t for him, my friend would **not have died**.”_

And they would be right. Draco should be punished. But money still eases the court, even now.

Especially when Dumbledore testifies for you in his will. Especially when Harry Potter asks for leniency on your behalf…

Draco drags his head up. Potter’s also reading the paper, grim determination on his face. His Golden-Boy-Saviour face.

Potter looks up. Meets Draco’s eyes. But he’s not angry at Draco.

*

“Things are going to get worse,” Pansy says in a hushed tone.

Draco says nothing, waiting for the last of the kids to get back inside Slytherin. The stone wall closes behind them. Draco heads up to the Eighth Year dorm room.

Pansy follows him. “ _Draco_.”

“They want _me_.” Draco glares at his unfinished homework on his personal desk and grabs his notes on the protective badges instead.

“What?”

“The other Houses. They want _me_. I represent everything that they hate. If you—and all the other Slytherins—throw me out, distancing me, then I can draw their ire.” Draco would have to continue to pull their aggression, but that wouldn’t be too difficult, even if he has to toe the line set by his parole Auror. Draco’s well versed in making others angry.

Pansy grabs his face. “ **NO**.”

Draco’s cheeks squish uncomfortably. “Pansy.”

“No! Don’t be a hot-headed Gryffindor!”

“I understand sacrificing one for the many. You told me I needed to take responsibility for Slytherin’s reputation.”

Pansy grimaces. “Yes, but…”

Draco pulls away from her grip. “Severus’s old office has private sleeping quarters. I could stay there.”

“Not this again!” Pansy scoffed. “Do I have to tell you everything again? Fine, you’re right, you need to take responsibility, but you can’t run away like this.” She flicked Draco’s forehead, ignoring his look of pain. “It won’t work, and you _should_ know it. Sure, maybe they’ll attack you and leave everyone else...for a few days. And then what happens when the _next_ article comes out? Thinking clearly, Draco!”

“You’re saying _we_ should deal with Greyback.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

Draco sits down on the edge of the bed. “Greyback is a cocky bastard,” he muses, “especially now the Dark Lord is dead and he _isn’t_. The question is why he hasn’t attacked Hogwarts directly...so many potential victims. Potter. _Me_ …”

“No, Draco,” Pansy says sternly.

“Damn, I really _do_ need Felicity to get someone on Potter-watch….But it might be less suspicious if _I_ do it...with Potter’s recent interest, luring him out should be easy…”

“ _No_ , Draco.”

“But first, the badges...I love you, Pansy,” Draco says. He summons an armful of other things and heads swiftly down to Severus’s potions laboratory, narrowly missing Pansy’s annoyed hex.

*

Time passes oddly in a potions laboratory underground with a charmed window. Draco is interrupted from his work by fourth year Aster Grace knocking at Severus' office door, which remains locked for anyone who isn’t Draco.

Draco throws _stasis_ on everything and ushers Aster Grace out of the corridor and into the safety of the office. “What is it? Has something happened?”

There’s a slightly grey pallor to Aster’s pale skin. Draco makes a mental note to drag Aster out into the sun on the weekend.

Aster nudges dark green hair out of their eyes. “Firstly, you missed lunch,” they say, pushing a basket into his stomach. “Blaise collected that for you, by the way.”

Draco sends the food basket floating over to the table by the fireplace. “And secondly?”

“And _secondly_ , why didn’t you get _me_ to help instead of those fifth years? After Pansy told me about it, I have _so many_ ideas on how to make it better.”

Draco smiles in amusement. Aster Grace is a potions adept—one of the best, aside from Draco obviously.

“Aster. Unlike those fifth years, you don’t require any help for your potions OWLs.” He lets Aster help on the potions though, handing over his experimental recipes.

Draco nibbles on a sandwich as he watches Aster prepare some of them.

“Why _badges_ though?” Aster asks.

“When I was your age, I made _Potter Stinks_ badges,” Draco tells Aster. “We spent a lot of our free time plotting. Lots of Gryffindors to foil.”

Aster smirks. “Especially green-eyed Potter, right?”

Draco narrows his eyes at Aster’s cheek. “Yes, _especially_ him.” He nudges them to focus on brewing the potions.

The work is methodic: making potions, soaking badges, evaluating. Over the iterations, Draco figures out the formulas and makes sure there are no missing minus signs. Unfortunately, the badges can only soak in the cauldron a few at a time, otherwise the potion-infusion process is uneven.

The badges will have to be given out to most vulnerable students first: the Slytherin First Years. There are not many Slytherin First Years, making the few that entered his House all the more precious, regardless of their blood status.

*

By the time Aster and Draco return to the Slytherin Commons, Pansy and Blaise have already left with a contingent of Slytherins for dinner.

“Anyone else coming to the Great Hall?” Draco calls. Some of the students milling around the Slytherin Commons walk over to him, bringing with them a sharp tang of iron. Draco’s gaze narrows in on Jamie Ottley.

“Jamie, come here.”

Jamie’s eyes widen. “What did I…”

“You’re hurt.” Draco glares at the cut in Jamie’s left sleeve. “Arm, _now_.”

“I’m _fine_ , sir,” Jamie tries.

“ _Mister Ottley._ ”

Jamie holds out his arm grudgingly. “It’ll heal by itself, you don’t need to…”

Draco pulls Jamie’s sleeve back. It’s not a _horrible_ wound, and an _Episkey_ makes short work of it. But it shouldn’t have happened.

Draco may have been injured frequently when he was Jamie’s age, but the unwritten agreement he and Potter had was special and _unique_.

“Next time, tell me.”

“But you’re so busy already…”

“It’s my job to know,” Draco says. “What if your cut became infected?”

Jamie bows his head, chastised. “How did you even know _anyway_ ,” he mumbles.

“Hmm.” Draco smiles knowingly without answering. He pulls out some of the shield badges from his pockets and hands them out to some of the students—including Jamie—who are willing to head to the Great Hall for dinner.

“They’re not a free pass to ignore your surroundings,” Draco warns them, after explaining the badges’ function. “But if you’re ready, the shield charm can cover you and a friend.”

After ensuring that they know how to activate the badges, Draco cautiously exits Slytherin first. The coast is clear—no sounds, no scents that shouldn’t be there. Draco relaxes and escorts the students up to the Great Hall.

The only incident of note are the Hufflepuffs lurking a corridor away from the Great Hall. A group of them, fifth to sixth years, all watch as the Slytherins approach.

Draco lags back a little, placing himself between them and the Slytherins. But the Hufflepuffs don’t do anything.

“Coming for dinner?” he finally calls out to them.

“You’re not the boss of _us_ ,” one of the Huffepuff boys scowls.

“Worry about yourself,” a tall Hufflepuff girl says mockingly.

“Professor Sprout would be concerned if her Hufflepuffs were skipping dinner,” Draco drawls. He shrugs one shoulder. “As you wish.”

*

Clouds skid over dark skies in the Great Hall ceiling that dinner.

Draco’s shoulders are tense. He can hear all the hushed gossip about _Greyback_ and _Death Eaters_ and _that Malfoy_. He’s apprehensive about how this would affect the kids in Slytherin. Blaise’s teasing cannot distract him from the mutter of voices.

When dinner mercifully ends, the Slytherins leave en masse. Draco brings up the rear. As he leaves, he catches Potter’s eye, a magnetic tug that draws them together. But Potter doesn’t get up. Instead, that same group of Hufflepuffs follow them.

They shadow the Slytherins down the stairs. Keep following past their own floor, down to the dungeons. At this rate, they’ll find out Slytherin’s location.

Draco signals to Pansy with a little charm. She turns back, eyes flickering to the Hufflepuffs down the corridor behind them.

“Go, take the Slytherins down,” he tells her, side-eyeing the Hufflepuffs.

But instead—never one to listen to Draco—Pansy sends a message to Blaise at the head of the group. From the front, Blaise nods and takes off with the Slytherins. Meanwhile, Pansy comes to stand by Draco’s side.

“Can’t let you have all the fun,” she says, shrugging one shoulder.

Together, they face the Hufflepuffs sauntering towards them.

“Stop right there,” Draco tells the Hufflepuffs.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” the tallest of the Hufflepuffs says, with a coy smile. She waves a hand. “It’s a free castle.” She and the rest of her Hufflepuff gang wear their robes open in the mugglish style.

Draco tries not to curl his lip at the muggle clothing they wear underneath. How _dare_ they mock their Hogwarts robes, worn so casually as though it’s a mere blanket or bathrobe.

“Firstly, this castle is not yours. It is not _free_. Secondly, the third floor was forbidden in my first year,” Draco says cooly, eyes heavy-lidded in an expression of tedium.

The Hufflepuff laughs lightly, and then tries to walk past Draco. Draco moves right in front of her.

“Don’t be _rude_ , Malfoy,” the Hufflepuff says, bright blue eyes flashing.

Draco raises one eyebrow, and smirks. “I must be quite popular, if you know my name,” he drawls. “I have no idea who _you_ are.”

The Hufflepuff glares. “Laurel Gardiner,” she grounds out. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re unable to recognise anyone beyond your scared _Twenty-Eight_.” She quickly steps to the side—but Draco follows. He catches Pansy’s eye.

_No, not yet_. They need to hold a little longer for Blaise’s group to reach the Commons.

“I just want to talk to Professor _Garren_ ,” Gardiner says, smiling innocently. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Unlike Snape, _Garren’s_ office is on the Ravenclaw’s floor,” Draco drawls. His eyes snap to a couple of the other Hufflepuffs trying to sneak past him and Pansy. Draco raises his arm, and flames burst out, all the way to the other wall.

“What the _fuck_ ,” more than one Hufflepuff exclaims. They flinch back, faces thrown in sharp relief by the fire.

( _What the fuck_ , Draco’s also thinking. How did that get there? After all, dragons _breathe_ fire, not _summon_ fire.)

Gardiner scoffs. “Nice party trick, Malfoy,” she says, giving a negligent flick of a hand. “Now, if you _please_.”

The flames grow stronger. They don’t burn Draco—they feel nice and warm—but the Hufflepuffs stumble back, sweat appearing on their foreheads.

“Scared?” Draco drawls. “A little burn can be easily healed.”

“You—you’d get thrown in Azkaban!” another Hufflepuff shouts. The sweat on his forehead threatens to drip into his eyes. How utterly unbecoming.

“Oh, you’re right.” Draco glances at Pansy, and drops his arm. The flames disappear, and Draco makes a mocking bow. “Go right ahead. Explore. Be free.”

It doesn’t mean Draco and Pansy can’t follow _them_. Letting them have a taste of their own potion. Something in Draco’s chest purrs as he and Pansy stalk the Hufflepuffs through the corridors.

The Hufflepuffs walk right past the Slytherin entrance none-the-wiser.

With a grunt, Gardener swings to face them properly, hand making an aborted movement to her wand. “Stop _following_ us,” she glares at them.

Pansy flips her hair. “Oh? But it’s a free castle.”

Garden’s jaw tightens. “I’m bored,” she announces. With disdainful looks, Hufflepuffs finally go back up the staircases.

Giving up.

For now.

_Come back, I **dare** you_, Draco thinks as he watches them go.

Pansy turns to him. “What the _fuck_ , Draco?”

“We’ll have to set up surveillance charms around the corridors,” Draco says, scanning the corridor around them. The paintings are pretending they didn’t see anything. “Felicity might know some good charms for large spaces.”

“The _fire_ , you idiot,” Pansy says as she pushes Draco back to Slytherin.

“I think I’m getting allergic to Hufflepuffs,” Draco drily.

Except he _really_ cannot go bursting out in flames whenever he goes near to one. There are Hufflepuffs in his NEWTs classes, for Merlin’s sake.

Pansy huffs. “That’s not normal, Draco. I know you’ve gotten toasty warm, but conjuring fire like _that_?”

“You don’t believe I’ve mastered wandless, wordless _Incendio_?”

Pansy’s clearly unamused. In fact, her eyes are narrowing in suspicion.

“What if I said that something is wrong with me?”

Pansy flicks him on the forehead. “Nothing’s wrong with you. Except maybe your Potter obsession.”

Draco rubs his forehead in betrayal. “I hate you too, Pansy,” he says, pulling a face. “We better leave before the Ravenclaws come next.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tank Draco wants to pull aggro.
> 
> **Pansy** : Draco NO
> 
> **Draco** : Draco YES
> 
> Draco is trying to be a good boi. Unfortunately, his best role model is Harry Potter, which means Draco may inadvertently have some Gryffindor tendences…
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry** : *staring at the map with the Hufflepuffs clustered around Draco Malfoy* 
> 
> **Harry** : *sad face*
> 
> **Harry** : Why does Malfoy want to play with the Hufflepuffs instead of with me...
> 
> *
> 
> Also, if you want to read more about Draco making badges (or rather, jewellery) and infusing them with magic, check out my drarry fic [Infuse With Affection, Enchant With Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652239/chapters/49042691).


	3. Chapter 3

For a weekend, Draco’s doing a lot of _not_ taking-a-break. The badges are expedited into production, with fourth year Aster and a couple of competent sixth years roped in. Felicity sets up the surveillance charms that trigger in the presence of non-Slytherins. The Greyback issue niggles at the back of Draco’s mind, but he has to deal with mundane _homework_.

Then, on Monday, his mother’s weekly package arrives, along with the _Daily Prophet_.

> _**RISE OF NEW HEROES!! WITCH ATTACKED BY DARK WIZARDS SAVED BY MYSTERIOUS GROUP** _
> 
> _A 38-year-old witch is unscathed after an attempted attack by suspected Greyback. Aurors were called around midnight Sunday but the dark wizards had long fled the scene._
> 
> _The witch, Ms. Alda Hickories, told the_ Daily Prophet _of her harrowing night as Dark Wizards, suspected to include Greyback, surrounded her home in South England and laid down anti-apparition wards._
> 
> _When the end seemed all but eminent, Hickories suddenly spotted a muggle vehicle thundering in from the opposite direction. Dark-dressed figures, in the muggle style, jumped out and engaged the Dark Wizards in battle. They fought quick, clean, and won. While some Dark Wizards escaped with their tails between their legs, these mysterious heroes managed to round up some, tied up in a neat bow for the tardy Ministry Aurors._
> 
> _“They were amazing!” Hickories told_ The Daily Prophet _. “Without them, I would have been dead! Those Aurors should learn a thing or two about arriving on time.”_
> 
> _The identities of these heroes is unknown. However, Ms. Hickories was able to take a picture with them, and they gave her a message to pass on to_ Daily Prophet _readers:_
> 
> _**We are Aegis. We will not rest. We will protect Britain against all Dark Wizards and Death Eaters.** _
> 
> **__** _[Static picture shows a witch dressed in a loose purple robe standing in the middle of a group of people. These people are dressed in dark, form-fitting clothing and have no robes. Cloth covers their noses and lower faces, obscuring their identity.]_
> 
> _The case is under investigation by the Department of Law Enforcement. “They have been helpful,” Head Auror Robards told the press in a conference early this morning. “However, this Aegis should have sent an urgent report to our Aurors, and left justice to the Ministry.”_

The Ministry advertisement for reporting dark magic activity appears again. Draco thinks he can remain calm, but the dragon inside of him thinks differently. It sees a _threat_.

Blaise gently pulls the paper from Draco’s fingers. “Do you want to head back?” he says in a low voice.

Draco digs painfully sharp claws into his palms. “That would be running away.”

Most Death Eaters are already incarcerated. The three main Death Eaters who are “free” are: himself, his father, and Greg. Greg and his father are both under the watchful eyes of the Ministry, and if his father knows what’s fucking good for him, he’ll be obedient.

But who do Aegis count as _**dark**_? Will his _mother_ be safe? Blaise’s mother? Pansy’s family? The families of the Slytherin students Draco has responsibility for? What about dangerous creatures? Or the thestrals?

Draco’s not ignorant. Most pureblood families have had _some_ kind of dealings with Dark Magic. Inevitable after being around for so long. If Aegis _dares_ to hurt any one of his Slytherins, then Draco would _pay them back_.

But despite this affirmation and reassurance, the dragon lurks under his skin, threatening to clog his throat.

He retrieves his mother’s weekly package, trying to calm down. He puts one of the chocolates into his mouth. It melts immediately, flooding his mouth with sweetness as he opens her letter, detailing trivialities about the weather and gardening. Under his gaze, the cipher spell rearranges and the true words are revealed.

> _My darling Draco…_

He skips the part hinting about marriage, which brings him to the words:

> _The Lestrange House was ransacked on Saturday night by unknown assailants. I went over on Sunday to survey the damage. Almost all the artifacts have been smashed. Unfortunately, the items that were assigned to you under Bellatrix’s will have also been destroyed. The destruction has left behind a miasma of Dark Magic in the House. What unsightly behavior. I will need your cooperation in the future to clear it out. According to the fragments of the House wards left over, the assailants did not wear robes. Thankfully, the House recognises myself as close enough to Bellatrix to reset some of the Wards._
> 
> _I heed you, to take care if you venture outside of Hogwarts in the near future..._

Draco tenses. Assailants without robes?

 **Aegis**!

And if they can get into the Lestrange House—riddled with curses and traps thanks to the late Bellatrix—then Malfoy Manor is hardly safer.

_How dare they threaten him in the newspaper? How dare they destroy priceless artifacts? How dare they dream of hurting his mother? How **dare they?**_

He doesn’t notice the hiss of steam wisping from his mouth, but Blaise does.

“You have a free period,” Blaise says, frowning. “Go. I’ll cover.”

Draco folds up the letter, slipping it into his robes. He nudges the chocolates towards Pansy without comment, and strides out. He ignores curious eyes as he heads for the Forbidden Forest. 

Pain radiates at every step, but Draco doesn’t slow down until he’s under the cover of the Forbidden Forest. Tall trees leave the Forest dark and murky despite the daylight. His breath visibly condenses in the air. It must be cold, but he’s hot, smoke licking up his throat. He manages to tug off his robes in time before the transformation takes over. Bones break into new bones, break through his skin, new organs grow and new skin and scales stretch over his body.

The transformation wouldn’t be painful if Draco was actually an animagus.

The first time he had transformed was at the Manor after the War. When the fear had subsided, and the War Trials over. His father had tossed some words, and Draco had tossed some words back and they dissolved into an argument over the dining table.

“ _You’re a shit father! The worst! I wish you had been killed in the First War! Then **this** wouldn’t have happened!”_

_“You insolent **child**! Out! If you don’t want to be my child, then get out of this Manor!”_

_“Draco, Lucius, please_ ,” his mother had pleaded.

Fire had rolled in Draco’s stomach. He stormed out of the Manor, seeing red. He transformed, alone, in the Malfoy Grounds, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t scream.

The transformation was triggered by aggression. He hadn’t the energy to be angry during the War, but after the War, confined in Malfoy Manor with his father? Anger aplenty. It happened twice again. 

When Draco received the invitation letter to repeat his Seventh Year at Hogwarts—even though it was mandatory for him—he was relieved. It was a chance to get away from his damned father. Draco thought that as long as he stayed away from Potter, he wouldn’t be angry enough to transform while at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Professor Garren proved him wrong.

And now, the dragon feels closer to the surface each time.

Slowly, the transformation settles. Draco leaps into the air, wings beating hard. He breaks through the tree canopy, up into the brilliant grey-white of the sky that tastes a little like freedom.

The exertion burns off the initial rush of energy and helps him settle into big-creature-six-limbs. The flying clears his head, clears the mindless urge to hunt down Aegis, and leaves Draco with a bad taste in his mouth.

How did Draco let something as piddling as a group of anti-purebloods get to him? Maybe if he’s lucky, they’ll target him first and he can deal with them and _Scourgify_ his hands. 

He hones in on the thestrals’ clearing. From his vantage point, it’s not very deep in the Forest, so he skims close to the canopy lest he’s seen. The paleness of his scales also helps camouflage him against the overcast sky.

Draco slows his flight. He doesn’t need to worry about the thestrals—Hagrid will surely protect them, because Hagrid loves all creatures, the meaner-looking the better. Draco heads a little closer to peek at the herd. Some of the little thestrals are prancing around the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Something bumps into him.

“ _Urrkg._ ” Draco’s wings beat to the side, glaring at the thestral that has nudged his side mid-air. Then, he rolls his eyes. It’s the thestral leader…

…and now she’s giving him that _eye_ again. She flies just a little behind him, forcing him to continue forward.

She’s herding him into the clearing.

Draco curls his lips—showing off his sharp, sharp teeth—and speeds up to the clearing and lands as though he’d meant to the entire time. The thestral leader lands soon after, and starts nudging the foals toward him.

Not that they need much encouragement, because they’re completely unafraid, just like the first time.

Draco growls out rolling smoke...which the foals delight in prancing through. As the smoke dissipates, they wander back to Draco’s tail and try to climb it again.

They don’t have any such luck this time either, the daft things. Draco swishes his tail, hoping they’ll move onto something else.

The foals start _jumping_ over his tail instead, making their little neighs of joy.

Draco grumbles. He lets his head fall to the ground and temporarily allows the thestrals to use his tail as an equestrian jumping obstacle. He should just turn back into a human and conjure up _proper_ jumping obstacles.

 _...But how long will they be interested in it?_ Draco might have better luck convincing a cat to play with a cat tower instead of the boxed packaging it comes in.

*

The smell of bloody meat jerks Draco’s attention—and the attention of all the thestrals, too. The foals abandon Draco’s tail to prance around on the spot, eagerly awaiting their meal.

Draco hears _footsteps_.

 _Again_ , he snorts in frustration. He reverses the transformation and has his trousers on, threading arm through shirt just as Hagrid—and _Potter_ damn it Draco hadn’t smelt him through the thick scent of fresh meat—step into the clearing.

“Here we are!” Hagrid booms, setting down two large buckets with unidentified red meat.

“Malfoy!” Potter exclaims, sounding completely unsurprised.

Knowing Draco’s luck, he _isn’t_ , and Potter’s gotten back on that tendency to guess—or know—where Draco is at all times. Draco can’t tell whether he should be impressed, flattered, or annoyed.

Draco quickly buttons up his shirt as Potter approaches. A large group of thestrals have wandered over to Hagrid, but a group remains around Draco, watching Potter’s bucket of meat approaching. Potter sets the bucket down, and the thestrals trot over to eat.

Except one of the daft thestrals noses Draco’s hair instead.

Draco tries to nudge it’s head back. “My hair is _not_ edible _,_ ” he tells it sternly.

Potter grins, green eyes lighting up. “They really love you, Malfoy,” Potter says easily.

Draco sucks in a breath—all the better to retort, “Well, of _course_ they do.” The thestral moves from Draco’s hair to his arm. With a huff, Draco obligingly pets the thestral.

Potter starts laughing, his entire face lighting up. “Okay, definitely didn’t expect _this_.”

Draco pulls a disgruntled expression, but it’s hard to hold facing Potter’s smile—a smile that’s directed at _Draco_. For the first time ever. Wonders never cease around Potter.

“Come on Harry, Malfoy!” Hagrid calls out. “Help feed the thestrals!”

“Yeah, Malfoy,” Potter says. “Unless you’re scared of some raw meat.” He raises both eyebrows, in mockery of Draco’s own eyebrows.

Draco raises one eyebrow in response. He summons his robes and pulls them on before picking up a piece of meat and handing it to the nosy thestral.

“That’s right, eat your damned breakfast,” he tells it, patting the beast. Draco looks up in time to see all the other foals heading back to him. Another one starts nosing his hair too. They all want him to hand feed them! Much aggrieved, he grabs another piece of meat for the next thestral.

Potter’s staring at him again with an odd look on his face. He’s also standing there doing nothing.

“ _Pot-tah_ ,” Draco drawls. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

Potter blinks. His cheeks redden. “Yeah, of course.”

Potter’s hesitant at first, and maybe to a human like him, a thestral’s teeth may look intimidating. But after Draco sternly tells them not to bite poor Potter, the foals take the meat out of Potter’s hands with exaggerated care, and one brave (or daft) foal even licks Potter’s hand, startling a laugh out of Potter.

“Smashing, they love you now,” Draco drawls, lips quirking up. “I’ve become last week’s gossip.”

Potter rolls his eyes. “Dramatic, much?”

Draco smirks in response. He hands a piece of meat to one of the meeker thestrals, who hasn’t approached Draco yet. “That’s right, eat up, and get big and strong like your evil herd leader,” he tells it. He stares directly back at another thestral that’s being a bit greedy. “I have my _eye_ on you. Why don’t you go and bother Potter instead?”

“Hey!”

All the meat gets eaten up. Draco scorgifies his hands. Scorgifies Potter’s hands too, because he’s unsure whether Potter knows _any_ grooming or hygiene spells.

They end up walking back together. (Hagrid apparently wants to see some creature or other in the Forest. Draco’s not surprised.)

In the close proximity, Draco’s starting to tease out the elements of Potter’s scent. There’s a muskiness, And also a sweetness and baked goods, and grass, and books. And the reek of smelly Gryffindor boys.

“You don’t _really_ think I’m conducting a naked ritual, do you?” Draco asks out of morbid curiousity.

Potter flushes. “What? No way!”

Draco stares. He definitely thinks Draco is. “I had believed we were going to ignore each other for the entire year.”

Potter sighs, hunching in a little. “Been focusing on other things. You know.”

Draco’s heart rate picks up. His hands get clammy. He doesn’t want to say it. But it’s the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Potter…” Draco pauses til Potter looks at him. Which, bad idea because Potter’s now _looking at him_.

“Yeah?”

“I…I have to thank you. For your testimony at my mother’s war trial.”

Potter smiles faintly. “Your mum’s? No problem.” He leans in a little. “Not yours?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “ _And_ my trial too,” he adds. “You...have my utmost gratitude.” The words grate out of Draco’s mouth. He hates feeling so in-debt to Potter just as much as he hates apologising. But...needs must.

Potter stays silent for longer than socially acceptable, a frown on his face. Draco looks away. The end of the Forest is near, and Draco can escape and never speak to Potter again.

“You were a kid.”

Draco looks back. “We were _teenagers_. And the _concept_ of teenagers did not exist until the last century.”

There are a lot of things Draco tries not to think about. They’re not good for everyday living: sure, he could go into a deep depression that so many people wish for him. Fuck, he _would have_ if it weren’t for Pansy and Blaise.

His father had ordered him, “ _Be infallible, Draco, the face of the new Malfoys.”_ Professor Garren overstepping his bounds, _“You must maintain perfect behaviour. You must be irreproachable.”_

None of which is actually _helpful_ given that the men giving Draco that advice can’t even follow it themselves.

However, Pansy had told him, “ _See problem, fix problem, and don’t wait for anyone else—they’ll probably do a worse job anyway.”_ Blaise told him, “ _Try to be as charming as me—I know being nice is hard for you, which is why **you** don’t get all the boys.”_

Fondness fills him as he recalls his friends.

“Malfoy?”

“I should...apologise.”

Potter grimaces.

“So...sorry.”

“For?”

Draco’s eyes snap to Potter’s. “Are you going to make me list _everything_?” he says with dismay.

Potter pulls a face. “Ehhh, maybe not.”

They lapse into an awkward silence. Draco sticks to watching Hogwarts castle grow larger and larger as they approach it. He can feel Potter’s glances at him, but he doesn’t look back. He’s above such sneaking looks. If _he_ wants to look at Potter, he’ll do it properly.

“Hey, did you do your charms homework?” Potter finally says.

“Of course.”

“Oh.”

Draco inwardly rolls his eyes, pitying poor Potter. “Go ask Granger.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They part upon entering Hogwarts, and Draco does not expect to talk to Potter again.

*

...But he sees Potter again and again. They have a lot of NEWTs classes together. They have their meals in the Great Hall.

When Draco meets Potter’s eyes across the Great Hall during dinner, everything else seems to fade away. Draco initiates the acknowledgement nod first, and Potter quickly follows.

Then the whispers curl back into Draco’s ears. _“Merlin, what is he smiling about **now?**_ ” “ _Less Slytherins today. I bet they're too scared to have dinner with us…_ ”

“Hmmm,” Pansy hums exaggeratedly. “Take a look at Hagrid.”

Draco frowns at Pansy, and looks to the Professors’ table. Hagrid is talking avidly to Professor Flitwick. Hagrid’s now _looking Draco’s way_. Hagrid’s now _grinning_ at him, before telling Flitwick something. Now _Flitwick_ is looking at Draco.

Draco is very alarmed. Meanwhile Pansy cackles, hand over her mouth.

“Hagrid’s been telling _everyone_ that you’re _great_ with thestrals.”

“Dear Pansy,” Blaise interrupts, “What you’ve missed out is Draco’s longing looks at Potter. _I_ think our dear boy finally got to see Potter naked too while out in the Forbidden Forest.”

“I’m _great_ with animals,” Draco says, pointedly ignoring Blaise. He glances at Potter on reflex. Meanwhile, his friends are leering at him, amusement in their eyes.

“I suppose one _could_ call Gryffindors beasts,” Pansy says.

Draco gives her an unimpressed look. “I’m glad _you both_ are enjoying yourselves.” He glances down the table, making sure the younger Slytherins are eating their vegetables.

*

A few days later, McGonagall meets him at the end of his final class for the afternoon, and tells him there are Aurors to see him. It’s unsurprising. A bit slow, in fact, given that the Dark Wizard attacks occurred days ago.

Pansy and Blaise shoot him worried looks. Potter’s trying to linger, though _his_ friends don’t notice anything.

“Of course, professor,” Draco says, and follows McGonagall, leaving his friends behind.

Draco takes a seat at McGonagall's desk. While she summons the Aurors, Draco scans the office.

Unlike the late Dumbledore, McGonagall's more neat, and with a greater predilection to tartan, likely from her clan. A cat bed lies at the corner of the room, and there’s a new cabinet that Draco suspects is filled with Scottish whiskey.

The portraits of past Heads of Hogwarts adorn the walls. Portrait-Dumbledore’s eyes are closed, but Draco bets the old bastard’s listening in.

Portrait-Severus, however, is moving. He’s avoiding Draco’s eye and going deeper into the painting’s potion laboratory.

Portrait-Severus has not shown up in any of the Slytherin Common’s paintings. He hasn’t even shown up in his old rooms that Draco hijacked for Slytherin use.

...well, not _hijacked_ exactly. Draco’s entry had been surprisingly easy (just a bit of curse-breaking and some drops of his blood), so perhaps portrait-Severus had _let_ Draco into the quarters.

McGonagall steps back when two Aurors, decked in eye-smarting-bright red, exit the floo. Both Aurors are men, one with light brown hair and the other with dark brown hair.

Draco knows the stouter of the two with the lighter hair: Auror Hitchly, Draco’s parole Auror.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Draco** : *big mean scary dragon*
> 
>  **Baby thestrals** : LOVE!!! PLAY!! HEAD PATS PLEASE!!
> 
>  **Hagrid** : *wipes the tears of joy from his eyes*
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
>  **Harry, writing in his diary** : Today, I saw Draco Malfoy half naked again. His ⬛⬛⬛ is very ⬛⬛ and ⬛⬛⬛ ...


	4. Chapter 4

Draco remains seated, not caring to stand up. “Good afternoon, Aurors.”

Hitchly’s narrowed eyes look down on him, his lip curling slightly in disdain. “Mr. Malfoy. How unfortunate to see you again before our next parole meeting. This is Auror Bartholomew. He’s the head of the task force on Greyback’s case.” His magic reaches out towards Draco, trying to suppress and intimidate him.

But in comparison to the Dark Lord, Hitchly’s aura is laughable.

Draco’s expression doesn’t change. “A pleasure to meet you, Auror Bartholomew.”

“Don’t lie,” Bartholomew scoffs. “Stand up. We’re escorting you out.” He strides forward, reaching for Draco’s arm.

“No,” McGonagall says.

Bartholomew yanks his arm back, expression darkening. “With all due respect, this matter is highly important for British security. We will briefly escort Mr. Malfoy to one of our interrogation offices—”

“Mr. Malfoy is staying right here. You can question him in _my_ presence.” McGonagall’s face is calm. She sits down at her desk, and motions the Aurors to take the two remaining seats.

“This is Ministry _business_ ,” Bartholomew growls. “Hogwarts should comply with us! Are you aiding criminals??!!”

“—Mr. Malfoy is _my_ student, hence this is Hogwarts business.”

Draco looks between them, reluctantly impressed with McGonagall. A Gryffindor, standing up for _him?_

(What about Potter? goes a tiny voice in his head. Ah, but Potter stands up for everyone, the _saint_ , the more rational voice replies.)

Hitchly smiles, but his jaw is tight and displeasure evident in his eyes. “In that case, why don’t we call in the Head of Slytherin, Professor Richard Garren?”

“No. I can pass any details to Professor Garren myself.” Her eyes narrow at the two Aurors.

Bartholomew attempts to argue, but McGonagall raises one sharp eyebrow.

Hitchly and Bartholomew finally acquiesce unwillingly.

“Of course, you’re the Headmistress of Hogwarts,” Bartholomew says, his lip curling in distaste. He doesn’t sit down, instead towering over Draco. “I shall begin the recording,” he says, spelling out parchment and quill. “Where were you last Friday night?”

Last Friday night was the night of Greyback’s attack.

Draco now remembers Bartholomew’s face in the audience in his War Trial, hanging on every mention of _Greyback_. His sister had been bitten by Greyback and turned into a werewolf. But instead of helping his sister live better in the aftermath, Bartholomew has been grabbing every opportunity to track down Greyback.

“At Hogwarts,” he finally replies.

“And where _else_ were you?”

“At Hogwarts,” Draco repeats, his eyebrows raising a fraction in contempt.

“Where were you on Sunday night?”

“At Hogwarts.” Sunday night was the night of the attack foiled by Aegis.

“And can the illustrious Headmistress confirm that?”

McGonagall gives Bartholomew a stern look. “I do not _stalk_ my students, Auror Bartholomew,” she says coldly.

“My two friends can confirm it,” Draco pityingly grants him. “Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were both sleeping with me.”

Bartholomew’s lip curls. “Your _friends_. Of course.”

There’s a strange light in Hitchly’s eyes. If Hitchly has misunderstood Draco’s words... _heh_.

“This is confidential. If I hear about anything improper in the papers, I know who the tatter-mouth is,” Draco drawls. “Although, such a scandal would only pour more gold into Mrs. Zabini’s coffers.”

Hitchly’s teeth gnash, but under McGonagall’s gaze, he holds his words. Draco inwardly smirks. Maybe he just needs a pet Gryffindor at hand to yap at Aurors.

Bartholomew snorts. “As if we _care_ about you. Who have you been in contact with outside of Hogwarts?”

“Well, obviously, my dear mother,” Draco says. “And by extension, my father. But as I understand it, the Owls to Malfoy Manor are tracked, and my father has a Ministry tracker, and I assume the Ministry has been diligent in their surveillance.”

Hitchly bristles, because _he’s_ the one in charge of the Malfoys’ file at the Ministry. “Well, sources tell me you’ve been to the Forbidden Forest multiple times! Liasoning with werewolves and thestrals!”

Meanwhile, Bartholomew is glaring at Hitchly before saying loudly, “Mr. Malfoy, have you been to the Forbidden Forest?”

“Yes,” Draco admits easily.

“What are you doing there?”

“Spending time with the thestrals.” _—during the most recent visit._

Hitchly grins triumphantly. “As everyone knows, thestrals are creatures of death…”

“Thestrals are loyal to Hogwarts,” McGonagall says sharply.

Bartholomew bristles. “Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing with the thestrals?”

“I fed them breakfast,” Draco says coolly. “You can ask Professor Hagrid and Harry Potter.”

Both Aurors react to Potter's name with dark expressions.

“Yes, I have heard this too,” McGonagall says.

Bartholomew’s jaw clenches. “Very well. Your questioning is done.” Without a word of farewell, he pivots on his foot and leaves via the Floo.

“Congratulations on sticking to your parole terms so far, Mr. Malfoy,” Hitchly says sarcastically. “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.” He also leaves, and Draco’s eyes can finally recover from the eye-sore red of the Auror’s robes.

McGonagall gives a barely audible sigh. She turns to Draco. “Someone must have reported you to them. Do you have any idea who?”

Draco shakes his head. He’s not really bothered by it: sure, someone could have reported him to the Aurors. His own _parole_ Auror might have reported him. It doesn’t matter who did what, because honestly, it’s the _smart_ thing to question him about things related to Death Eater activity.

Smart, but useless.

“...I see. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“Not at all, Professor.”

McGonagall frowns _more_. “If there is _any_ problem you have, you can tell me with utmost confidentiality and I will help you.”

Given all the listening portraits, Draco would never say anything confidential in this office.

Draco leaves McGongall’s office and heads down. Unfortunately, as he exits the dedicated staircase for the Head office, he comes across a group of students.

“Ohh, Malfoy, what are you doing hanging out here?” A small cluster of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are arranged by one of the large windows overlooking the Quidditch Pitch.

“Were you _spying?_ ” one the Gryffidors says in a sly voice. “Trying to find where we sleep at night…” The boy laughs when his friends shove him with a “ _that’s not funny!_ ”

“Of course not,” a thin, reedy Ravenclaw says, sticking his nose up. “Malfoy just came down that staircase. That means he’s seen _McGonagall_.”

“OOOH,” the group jeers. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Draco looks at them. He turns away and continues on. They’re so _juvenile_ , making hissing sounds at his back. They really should get back to their spying on Hufflepuff quidditch training, so that those three Houses can have a race to the bottom of the leaderboard.

*

By the next day, students know that he’s been interrogated by Aurors.

The gossip’s torn between what actually happened though: either Draco was left a mess after being verbally ripped into, or Draco had been conniving and evil and _Slytherin_ and tied the Aurors up in knots.

But, with the flurry of due-in assignments prior to Samhain/Halloween on the weekend—and the other houses working hard on their costumes—inter-house conflict ebbs down.

The Saturday of Halloween begins with a lot of loud talking and excitement. Blaise is on the Slytherin volunteer team, because he’s charming and has a good eye for decoration. Meanwhile, Slytherin Commons is bustling with the rearrangement of furniture and wizardspace for their Samhain event.

Samhain starts at sunset of October 31st and will last till the sunset of November 1st. There are many different variants of the event, but given that this is the first Samhain after the Battle of Hogwarts, after the civil war the Dark Lord propelled, the Slytherins are sombre.

The Halloween-set-up volunteer group returns at sunset. With all the Slytherins in attendance, they light the central fire pit and lay out the food that the house-elves graciously provided for their ancestors and passed loved ones and family. Wild magic and Hogwarts’ magic swirls through the air, laced with the scent of cold _winter_ despite the roaring fire.

Many have lost their parents. Some of those parents had been Death Eaters. But they were also _parents_.

Draco’s not lost any close family he cares for. (He’s _glad_ Molly Weasley did away with Bellatrix.) But he does set Vince’s favourite sweets on the offering tables.

He wonders if Greg is doing the same.

*

The Slytherins head out to dinner in the Great Hall by shifts. Draco dons a half-hearted costume of long cloak with comically large feathers and joins one of those groups.

All the house tables have been truncated in half, in order to create an open space. The typical floating candles have been replaced by jack-o-lanterns, with an array of carved faces, and peculiar music plays in the background (later, one of the Slytherin first years will inform him it’s muggle music). The other students are also dressed up as... _something_. It’s _far_ beyond the costume events his parents used to attend when Draco was a child.

He spots Granger and Weasley across the Hall. But no matter where he looks, no matter how he focuses on the scents in the Hall, he cannot find Potter.

As the main food service ends, the music gets louder and students start contorting their bodies (Draco hesitates to call it ‘dancing’). There’s even the girl Weasley with Luna Lovegood. But no Potter.

Granger and Weasley don’t look fully happy either, but they’re still staying.

Draco cannot hang around though; with dinner over, he and all the remaining Slytherins return back to the Commons. No Hufflepuffs delay them—there are sounds of revelry coming from the Hufflepuffs’ area.

Back in the Commons, the food offering is done, and now students are eating it. The sombre atmosphere has been replaced with something more forward looking, and some have even started small games.

And at the end of the day, the Slytherins are still children. Draco doesn’t _want_ them to be miserable.

“Draco,” Pansy says, quickly walking up to him. “Some students spotted Potter walking out of the castle, and some of the Quidditch team spotted him by the Forest this afternoon.”

Draco shifts his eyes away from her. “And?”

Pansy snorts. “You’ve been looking for him all day. Do you think it’s safe for him to be out in the Forbidden Forest, alone?”

“What about _my_ safety?” Draco says.

Pansy gives him a flat look.

“If you’re _forcing_ me to go…”

Pansy pats him on the back, rolling her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m forcing you to go.”

*

As Draco heads to the Forest, shivery beasts gallop away.

Potter is sitting at the base of a tree, knees pulled up to his chest and eyes sightless.

“I suppose you don’t want company,” Draco drawls as he approaches him. He produces a mug of hot chocolate and sticks it in Potter’s face.

“Wah?” Potter takes the mug, blinking and dazed.

Draco conjures a picnic blanket and folds his legs gracefully to sit, tucking his robes carefully around his legs. “I find that small children like hot chocolate when it gets dark.”

Potter blinks again. Frowns. “I’m barely a month younger than you!” But he takes a sip of the hot chocolate anyway, so that’s a victory to Draco. “Oh. It’s actually hot chocolate.” 

Draco gives him an unamused look. “Do you want it or not?”

“What do you want?”

Draco sighs heavily, and tilts his head. “Hogwarts has been so _dreary_ today without your presence. Not that you missed much, with the horrid All Saints Eve party in the Great Hall. And the _costumes!_ Blaise tells me it’s some _American_ import.”

“You hate all muggle stuff, I know.”

“Not at all, I find the British Muggle Queen sufficiently palatable.”

Potter grunts, but then lapses into silence again.

There is something extremely wrong about seeing Potter down and sad. He’s the _Boy Who Lived_ , the Saviour, Gryffindor’s darling. The Dark Lord is _dead_ , surely he would be happier now…

But unlike Draco, Potter _has_ lost a lot of close friends and pseudo-family…

...and _blood_ family too.

“Your parents died on Samhain,” Draco says softly.

Potter’s head snaps up. “What the heck is Samhain?”

“ _Today_ is Samhain.” With Potter’s attention, Draco tells him about the veil between life and death, the food offerings. And sometimes, speaking with those who have passed.

Potter curls up on himself. “I _did_ speak with them...the night of the Battle. The resurrection stone.”

Draco bites back the, _it's real?_ because Potter is still deep in his head.

“Threw it away...everyone was telling me to _move on_ , and people can go mad with the stone,” Potter continues. “But. Samhain. The Stone. The stupid veil in the Department of Mysteries. None of it can _bring them back._ They’re _gone_. They could be here, they could be laughing, they could be—” Potter chokes. “But they’re not.”

Draco bows his head. He can offer words, but they would be meaningless compared to those Potter misses. Potter’s actual friends really need to be here.

“Shall I escort you back to Gryffindor Tower?”

“I’m not going to get sleep anyway,” Potter mutters.

For a moment, Potter sounds a _lot_ like one of the insomniac Slytherins. Draco refills Potter’s mug of hot chocolate and casts a warming charm around them before he even realises what he’s done.

“Can you tell me about them?”

Potter looks at him in silence for a few moments, lips twisted in confused distrust.

“The Forbidden Forest is the best place to keep secrets,” Draco adds softly, like he’s coaxing one of the first years. He casts a privacy charm around them and awaits patiently.

Potter sighs heavily. “Fine. Whatever. If you want to know so much.”

Potter speaks about his dementor-invoked-memory of his mum screaming. About the stories he’s gathered of his parents. Some of which were from Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, who are also dead, and now Potter’s scared he’s remembered them wrong. Potter goes from laughing about a prank, to crying about the people who carried them out.

Draco offers him his handkerchief. “I could light a fire,” he says. “Conduct a small Samhain ritual.”

Potter shakes his head. “If...if they’re listening then they’re listening. If they’re not…” His eyelids are heavy now, empty mug abandoned.

This time, Draco is successful in cajoling Potter back to Hogwarts castle. They separate at the front door, as Potter ascends to Gryffindor Tower by himself.

And Pansy was wrong—Potter was safe the entire time, because Draco could sense the thestrals just beyond keeping any other Forest creatures away from Potter.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Aurors:** *says anything*
> 
>  **McGonagall:** No.  
>   
> *meanwhile, in alternate universe*
> 
> Before Malfoy had arrived, Harry spotted the silvery unicorns nearby. Yet they fled at Malfoy’s presence….
> 
>  **Harry:** ...Malfoy is a playboy?!??!!
> 
>  **Harry:** *writes seriously about this matter in his diary*


	5. Chapter 5

Four days after Samhain is the night of the full moon. The third full moon since the Hogwarts year started. 

RIght now, the sky is dark but the moon has not yet risen. Draco accompanies three Slytherin students, Nolan Larch, Mesa Wattle, and Martin Gamp. They join with the larger group from the other houses, as well as Madam Pomfrey. While Madam Pomfrey attends to the students from the other houses, Draco distributes the last Wolfsbane potions to the Slytherins.

“I...I don’t want to,” third year Nolan Larch mumbles, glancing at the dark Forbidden Forest. “Why do we have to _hide?_ It’s all because of the stupid _witch hunts_.”

“Hush, Nolan,” Draco says pointedly.

Nonetheless, the other students hear, as they all have enhanced werewolf abilities. Dark looks and rolled eyes are sent their way, though truthfully those looks are more mild than the daggers of the first full moon back in September.

“You better all go now,” Madam Pomfry says, her face twisted with worry. “Do keep safe. I’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

The students nod. They split up into packs and head into the Forest to transform.

Draco doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the idea of any of the Slytherins going through all that pain. 

“Mr. Malfoy, let’s go,” Madam Pomfrey says.

Draco shakes his head. “No, not yet.”

“As a safety precaution, at _least_ ,” Madam Pofrey says, frowning.

Draco puts on a worried, demure expression. “I’m concerned about the younger students, just in case. I can protect myself. I’ll head back soon.”

Madam Pomfrey’s lips twist, and she sighs. “Very well. Don’t stay out too long.”

Draco bows his head.

Madam Pomfrey leaves. Once he’s sure she can no longer see him, Draco strides into the Forbidden Forest.

It’s hard to believe that his First-Year-self had been so afraid of the creatures in the Forest, when the true monsters were humans.

Unlike the main Hogwarts grounds, the Forbidden Forest technically isn’t covered by Hogwarts Wards. Not that it’s a _weak spot_ per-se, with the centaurs presiding over the area. But nonetheless, weaker. After all, during the War, the Death Eaters had managed to come here.

It is a place where Greyback could possibly enter.

Draco keeps his ears pricked, breathing deeply to gather the scents around him. As he goes deeper, there is nothing out of the ordinary.

He emerges in the thestrals’ glade. Most of the thestrals are asleep, but they all rouse from their naps upon Draco’s arrival, their white eyes gleaming under the moonlight.

“Neigh?” goes one of the fillies, clip-clopping around Draco.

Draco deigns to pat its head. “I need to speak to your leader first.”

“Neigh!” The filly eagerly rushes over to the thestral herd leader and nudges her towards Draco.

“I _should_ thank you for your care of Harry Potter on Samhain,” he tells the thestral leader. “Not that you needed to, I had everything under control.”

The thestral snorts, as though saying, _You’re nothing more than a foal, little human_.

Draco barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “However _,_ I would be grateful if you ensured that the werewolves who are students of Hogwarts are safe. There are too many of them for me to keep track of. Furthermore...do you remember the Death Eaters?”

The thestral hisses. _Yes_.

“The ex-Death Eater Fenrir Greyback is still at large,” Draco says gravely. “It is very possible that he will come here. Do not let him. Kill him at will, or send another creature to kill him.”

The thestrals may be kindly and gentle in nature, but the thestral leader has a sharpness to her that Draco suspects means that she’ll kill if pushed to it.

The thestral leader lowers her head and pushes him forward.

“...You’ll only agree if I play with the kids?”

“Neigh.”

“...If I play with them a lot of times. Right.”

Sighing at his fate, Draco entertains the young thestrals for a while until their next nap. Then, after petting them to sleep, he farewells the adult thestrals and heads back into the trees.

*

Nolan Larch, third year Slytherin, is the youngest of the Slytherin werewolves.

He shouldn’t have been bitten. It was all his stupid father’s fault! His father had dragged him to one of the peripheral meetings—for people not _honourable_ enough to be part of the inner circle and marked as a “Death Eater”. His father had spoken out of turn...and Nolan, who had been in his _second year_ , had paid the price.

In a fit of desperation, Nolan had done as much research as he could on his condition and his rights...only to find that the introduction of harsh laws against werewolves was in fact a relatively recent thing, coinciding with the replacement of moon-Arithmancy based understanding of lycanthropy with muggle anti-werewolf sentiment.

If it weren’t for the muggles, there wouldn’t be anti-werewolf laws, if it weren’t for the muggles, there wouldn’t have been a Dark Lord in the first place!

_All their fault!_

The first night Nolan had transformed back at Hogwarts, he had wanted to bite the muggleborn werewolves, but annoyingly, fifth year Slytherin werewolf Martin Gamp had stopped him, picking him up by the scruff of his neck and dragging him away.

The second night Nolan had transformed, he had...sulked, and kept to himself away from other transformed students.

Now, on this third night...as the pain of the transformation crests and falls, Nolan is thinking, _Why do I have to suffer in the Forest? Why can’t I just sleep in my bed as a wolf?_ The Wolfsbane keeps his mind human, makes him feel sleepy. He’s still a _human_ , a Hogwarts student!

With that annoyance growing in his chest, Nolan stalks towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

There’s a rustling sound off to the side. Immediately, Nolan’s on alert, teeth bared. He prowls towards the source of the sound, seeing a human figure under the faint dappled moonlight.

_Human? Who is it? Who dares enter the Forest?_ Nolan stalks forward. The person doesn’t back away.

If anything, they’re _approaching him_.

Nolan growls. _Fuck off!_ If it’s a muggleborn, then Nolan’s gonna— 

All of a sudden, a huge presence bears down on him. He _sees_ a human in front of him, but he _senses_ something big and dangerous, sharp clawed and much, much stronger than him.

Nolan whimpers. Instinct makes him bow his head. Pride is the only thing stopping him from rolling over on his back and presenting his stomach.

“Hm, you feel familiar,” the person says, and the pressure mostly disappears.

The voice is familiar to Nolan! He hesitantly raises his head, sniffing the air. Hint of sharp magic and coffee and apple cinnamon. It’s Mr. Draco Malfoy, right?

Nolan perks up, making a questioning sound that sounds like a cute whine. His whole body goes rigid when Mr. Malfoy (?) places a hand on his forehead.

Mr. Malfoy’s hand is warm, and firmly pats his head, ruffling his fur and stroking down to his shoulders.

“Very good,” Mr. Malfoy says.

Nolan’s traitorous tail wags, tilting his head to accept Mr. Malfoy’s pats and praise.

“Are you sleepy?” Mr. Malfoy waves an arm, and a large round mattress appears. “Sleep, you still have classes tomorrow.”

Nolan makes a grumpy sound, but he flops down on the mattress nonetheless. It’s many times more comfortable than the hard, cold ground of the Forbidden Forest.

Thoughts about terrorising muggleborns completely disappear, and Nolan dozes off in Mr. Malfoy’s calming presence.

*

The small werewolf settles into sleep. Draco gives them one last pat and stands up. After thinking a bit, Draco casts a one-way shield: it will allow the werewolf to leave, but prevent anyone else from entering the circle. The shield is timed to dissipate upon sunrise.

...He petted a _student_. Draco’s questioning all his life choices. He really, really hopes that the werewolf is a Slytherin, unsure whether his indescribable feeling about the student’s House affiliation is correct.

With an itchiness in his chest, Draco returns to Hogwarts Castle for the night. He doesn’t sleep for long, waking up early the next morning.

He meets Madame Pomfrey at the door of the Hospital Wing on the way out and together they go down to meet the students at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The Slytherins are separated from the others, as usual. They are already dressed. Martin Gamp looks particularly worn out, and Mesa Wattle can barely keep her eyes open. Young Nolan Larch, however, is sneaking looks at Draco.

“How was last night?” Draco asks quietly as he hands out the Slytherin portion of healing potions. He casts a warming charm around the group. “The house-elves have provided an early breakfast back in the Commons for you all.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Martin reports.

“...Sir?” Nolan asks hesitantly.

“Yes, Mr. Larch?” Draco says, a little absently as he hands out some chocolate.

“...Were you in the Forest last night?”

Draco focuses on Nolan properly. It’s a little hard to pick out his scent in the group. But if Draco is right, Nolan’s scent coupled with his eyes...the small werewolf from last night!

Draco leans down. “I was indeed,” he says quietly. “Don’t tell outsiders, understood?”

Nolan quickly nods.

Draco pats Nolan on the head. And freezes.

_What the heck am I doing? He’s a student, not a thestral!_

But Nolan’s eyes curve with contentment.

_I’m just making him more loyal to me_ , Draco explains to himself. He gives Nolan one last pat.

Nonetheless, Draco feels his reputation slipping away from him. He stands up straighter and gives the command, “Come, let’s go back.”

Ignoring Madam Pomfrey’s narrow-eyed look, Draco and the Slytherins walk back to the Castle first.

*

Unfortunately, by the end of the day, Draco’s actions have spread through the Hogwarts populace, no doubt initiated by one of the other student werewolves who had seen.

Draco ignores the malicious whispers of _grooming_. 

When Pansy hears about what he did, she grabs him round the shoulders and forcefully rubs his head. Thankfully, it’s done in the privacy of their dormitory room.

“What is this I’m hearing about you being polyjuiced? Are you up to something _evil_ , dispensing out affection?” Pansy asks, smirking.

It takes Draco a lot of effort to throw Pansy off. “Nolan was like a little thestral,” he defends, much aggrieved. His voice drops. “And after last night, it was the least I could do.”

Pansy cackles. She gives him a head pat. “Keep deluding yourself, Draco,” she says fondly.

Draco scowls, pushing away her hand. “If you’re so bored, Pansy, then shouldn’t you be working on the two-way communication function on the badges for me?” he says, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Fiiiiine,” she grumbled. “But I have the last word this time, darling.”

Pansy might have the last word, but Draco gives her the last _look_ before he strides out of the room.

*

On Friday night, two days after the full moon, Aegis raids Knockturn Alley.

Draco only finds out the morning after during breakfast in the Great Hall.

_**MYSTERY GROUP AEGIS CLEANS KNOCKTURN SCUM** _

According to the Saturday _Daily Prophet_ , Aegis are **dispensing justice**. The scene of destruction graces the front page.

Draco feels cold then hot. Shopkeepers and residents are tied up in the background, as Aurors flock in the picture’s foreground. Old buildings have been smashed in the mayhem, a mess of brick and magical items and ingredients littered on the ground.

His parents are safe. His mother isn’t under house arrest, but he knows she doesn’t go out to wizarding areas anymore.

But many people _aren’t_ safe. Yes, there are dark wizards on Knockturn Alley. But most dark wizards—the dangerous ones—did not _stay_ in Knockturn Alley after the war. Instead, Knockturn Alley has become more of a slum, a place with extremely cheap housing despite its central location in Wizarding London.

Draco sends a sharp gaze down the Slytherin table. Who among his Slytherins have been affected? Whose families lived in Knockturn Alley?

Aegis is _ransacking_ Knockturn Alley, yet Greyback is still at large. The full moon was two days ago. But no news of Aegis doing anything about Greyback’s pack.

Going for the _weak_ , are they? Even _Draco_ had the audacity to target Harry Potter, leader of the Light.

And where was Aegis during the War? This is not behaviour of the Order of the Phoenix.

Students from the other tables give them schadenfreude looks.

_“Finally! Someone smoked out the rats in Knockturn Alley!”_

_“A dark wizard tried to lure me there once…”_

_“It’s about time the Aurors charged everyone there!”_

_“Do you think Aegis will come to Hogwarts next?”_

The paper smokes under Draco hand, the smell of burning curling into the air.

“ _Draco!_ ” Blaise hisses, tugging the paper away from him. He frowns at Draco’s hands. “Get a grip.”

“Let me grip the throats of Aegis,” Draco growls, just loud enough that only Blaise would hear.

“...Draco.” Blaise pinches him, hard. “Aegis is _not_ going to come to Hogwarts. McGonagall won’t let it happen...Pansy said that if you got like this I should force you to leave the castle.”

“Write a letter to your mother,” Draco says abruptly.

Blaise stares at him for a moment.

“She’s one of the few people in the position to help those affected. Pay extra attention to the families of the Slytherins. You know more about the details than me.”

Blaise nods. “Consider it done.”

After eating breakfast, they all return to the Slytherin Commons.

The dragon feels close under his skin, but Draco can push it down enough to function. Now is _not_ the time to get galavanting in the Forest. Instead, Draco tells Felicity to tighten security around the Slytherin Dungeons, and heads into Severus’ potions laboratory to strengthen the defensive badges.

*

Unbeknownst to Draco Malfoy, Harry watches all the Slytherin students leave breakfast, the image of Malfoy’s tight expression and heavy shoulders lingering in his eyes.

“Hermione,” Harry says lowly, “Do you think there will be a third war? Or is it just me?”

Hermione’s return look is heavy. “I hope not.”

*

Jamie Ottley is a second year Slytherin. Compared to his first year, this second year has been much better.

Jamie had been worried—a lot of Slytherins had gone to magical schools overseas, but...his family wasn’t rich enough for the move.

He and the other second year Slytherins agree: with the three eighth years around, and especially Mr. Zabini, Hogwarts isn’t so bad.

Jamie especially likes how they can eat their meals in the Slytherin commons now. Mr. Malfoy still forces them to head to the Great Hall sometimes, but on the mornings that Jamie doesn’t have to go, he can sleep in! And during dinners in the Slytherin commons, Jamie feels much more relaxed. They can speak freely and not worry about the Ravenclaw table throwing things at their backs.

“The house-elves are very good,” Michelle Nguyen says, looking at the array of dishes on the table. Michelle is Jamie’s best friend, and Jamie immediately agrees.

“Then we should thank them! That’s what Mr. Zabini says,” Jamie says.

However...aside from the initial time that Jamie went with Mr. Zabini and first year Alyss Singh to see the house-elves, Jamie hasn’t _seen_ any of them. The food simply appears and disappears on the dining tables that Mr. Malfoy had organised.

He discusses this big problem with his friends. None of them remembered the names of the house-elves, and since the house-elves work for Hogwarts, it is unclear whether they could be _summoned_ at all.

And the only place that is certain to have elves is the Hogwarts Kitchens.

...In the end, Jamie’s the one who gets pushed forward to ask Mr. Malfoy for permission to leave the Slytherin Commons.

He’s not sure if Mr. Malfoy would agree: since the news about Aegis, he had tightened restrictions even _more_.

Rumour has it that Mr. Malfoy gave head pats to a third year, but Jamie didn’t quite believe it. Nolan Larch has been glaring and snapping at anyone who asks him.

(Also, Jamie remembers when Mr. Malfoy somehow just _knew_ he had that injury. He’s afraid that if he stands too close to Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy would find out that he has been sleeping less than 8 hours a day or something!)

With his friends behind him though, Jamie musters up his courage to ask Mr. Malfoy for permission to leave the Slytherin Dungeons.

“To do what?” Mr. Malfoy asks, frowning. 

“We should thank the house-elves personally...” Jamie trails off.

“It’s not necessary,” Mr. Malfoy says, sounding distracted. He’s doing something complicated with the badge in his hands.

Michelle Nguyen, Jamie’s best (best!) friend, finally steps up to Jamie’s rescue.

“It _is_ ,” she insists. “It’s been better now that we can eat here. The house-elves _want_ to help us—we can’t _afford_ to alienate them.”

Mr. Malfoy’s eyes finally focus on them properly. He sighs. “Take an escort.”

Jamie grins. He, together with Michelle and Alyss find a sixth year, Ella Wilkins, to escort them to the Kitchens. It’s not very far, and they don’t see anyone on the way. The thanking goes well (the house-elves ears seem to flop back and forth a _lot_ ), and each of them receives a treat.

“Thank you so much!” Jamie says brightly.

“We appreciate your hard work,” Ella agrees.

“Welcome, welcome,” the house-elves say. “Mr. Zabini is very kind.”

“Less scary than Mr. Malfoy,” Jamie agrees knowledgeably. 

Michelle is more measured and mature in her thanks, and Alyss is shy. That’s okay, Michelle says that Jamie talks enough for the three of them.

The moment they leave the Kitchens, Jamie stuffs his treat into his mouth—a peanut butter brownie.

They have barely walked a couple of meters when a large group of big Hufflepuffs appear before them. 

Jamie gulps, sticking closer to Ella, eyes darting to Michelle. Michelle purses her lips. Both of them are thinking about the protective badges in their pockets.

Ella tries to shuffle them around the Hufflepuffs, but the tallest girl stops them.

“I’m looking for _Draco Malfoy_ ,” the tall Hufflepuff says. She scans them, and focuses her gaze on Alyss. “Where is he?”

Alyss trembles. “I…” She turns wide eyes at Jamie. As a second year, Jamie is compelled to respond.

“We’re not telling you!” Jamie says loudly.

“You’re rather _brave_ for a Slytherin,” the Hufflepuff girl says, stepping closer.

Jamie gulps. “And why are you being _mean_? You’re a Hufflepuff!”

The Hufflepuff smiles. “That’s right, we’re nice Hufflepuffs. Go on, head back to your Dungeons.”

Jamie starts to walk, but then Ella stands between them.

“Then don’t follow us,” Ella says, drawing her wand.

_All_ the Hufflepuffs draw their wands too.

Jamie grabs Michelle’s arm, swallowing heavily.

“Do _you_ remember last year?” the Hufflepuff girl says in a low voice. “The Carrows? The Cruiciatus Curse _practice_? What was it like, torturing your fellow classmates?”

Ella blanches. “We…”

“You kept trying to find out what we were up to. But we never gave in. Let’s see how _you_ fare.”

Wands are drawn, red spells cutting through the air.

Jamie takes out his badge and activates the shield. But it doesn’t last under the onslaught of the Hufflepuff gang.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Pansy:** Get your head pat from Draco here!
> 
> **Baby Thestrals:** 🥺🥺🥺
> 
> **Baby Slytherins:** 🥺🥺🥺
> 
> **Draco:** ...
> 
> *
> 
> **Jamie:** *sells cute*
> 
> It’s...not effective on Draco (?)
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry:** ...head pat for me too?


	6. Chapter 6

A sharp pain bursts across Draco’s arm. He staggers to his feet.

_Something is wrong._

Seated on the other side of the table, Pansy’s look quickly goes from confusion to apprehension.

Pain catches Draco on the side. He sucks in a sharp breath. It should be a phantom pain, but it feels very, very real.

It’s all mixed up with the _dragon_. He needs, desperately, to transform. He needs to _go_.

_Younglings-hurt-must-find_ , are the confusing thoughts tugging at him. Fire licks at his fingertips, and his back aches for phantom wings.

“Hold down the Commons,” he says sharply to Pansy. He races to the Common room exit, hand out. A few moments later, his broom smacks into his palm.

It’s not wings, but it’ll have to do in the relatively small corridors of Hogwarts.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Pansy swears.

“No time!”

Draco vaults onto his hovering broom and flies away.

The corridors speed past him. He’s navigating on instinct, following the _pull_ to the _younglings_.

Dust and rubble make the corridor ahead hazy. There’s the sharp tang of offensive spells, the familiar scent of _his_ Slytherins, and the woody-plant scent of Hufflepuffs. The first and second years—Alyss and Michelle and Jamie—are huddled together. Ella stands between them and the Hufflepuffs…

_Stand_ being overly generous. Ella is thrown back, pushed by the force of two stunners on her shield.

Draco leaps down from his broom, landing right between Laurel Gardiner and his Slytherins. Gardiner stumbles back.

“What are you _doing_ , Gardiner?” Draco growls.

Gardiner recovers in a moment and spits, “Payback is _fair_. _Stupefy!_ ”

The spell slams into Draco, knocking him back, but nowhere near enough to knock him _out_. Because he’s a _fucking dragon_ that weighs over a hundred stone.

“ _Reducto! Impedimenta! Stupefy!_ ” Gardiner tries, wand jabbing and sharp.

Pain bursts across Draco’s body. But he stands his ground, not letting an ounce of pain show on his face. He sneers mockingly. “Is that all you can do? How pitiful. How does it feel to face someone stronger than you?”

“Why are you still _alive?!_ Why are you still standing?!” Gardiner screams. “It’s _**not fair!**_ ”

Draco’s sneer deepens. “Oh, _highly_ unfair.” He half turns, looking over his shoulder. Purposefully turning his face away from the Hufflepuffs. “Ella, can you get up?”

“Y-yeah.” Ella grimaces, pushing herself upright.

Michelle runs up to support Ella, and the group of them start heading off. Jamie throws back a concerned look, but he quickly looks away when Draco gives him a stern look.

A _Reducto_ knocks Draco’s shoulder, slicing through his robes.

With a cold heart, Draco faces Gardiner and her gang.

Gardiner rallies her friends. “ _You_ were in the Inquisitor Squad. _You_ let the fucking Death Eaters _into Hogwarts!_ How _could_ you!”

“You’re right.”

Gardiner freezes. “What?” Shakes her head. “It’s not fair. Acting like the War never happened. But oh, it _did_. None of us want you here! You Slytherins should just fuck off, you’re lucky you’re all not in juvenile detention!”

The lights around them flicker and the temperature drops sharply as the local temperature regulation charms fail.

Draco folds his arms across his chest, and the Hufflepuffs falter in their attacks. It’s clearly not working. Draco’s still standing.

“Did you _sacrifice_ some poor muggle to enhance your magic?” Gardiner growls.

“Try the Cruciatus curse,” Draco tells her. “I have a high tolerance, but it _was_ the Dark Lord’s favourite for a reason. More so than the Killing Curse—can’t suffer if you’re dead.”

Gardiner scoffs. “I’m not stooping to _your_ level.” But she’s hesitant now. Angered and annoyed at Draco, sure, but not actively cursing him. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

“ _Equal_ would mean I fight back. Fair would mean I don’t. Surely you understand.” Draco raises a mocking eyebrow.

Gardiner glares at him. “Think you’re so _good_ —”

“You’re decades too _early_.”

“Why you—!”

“ _WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?”_ Flitwick’s spelled voice booms down the corridor, the man himself a small figure on the very far end.

Hatred flashes across Gardiner’s face. “We’re not done here,” she threatens. She motions to her gang and they all flee in the opposite direction.

Draco awaits Flitwick’s approach. His heartbeat is finally stabilising again. _Younglings safe_.

... _Ow_. _Fuck_.

Draco grimaces as he becomes sharply aware of the pain. And his favourite evening robe is _ruined_.

“What _happened?_ ” Flitwick says, eyes scanning the corridor and then snapping back to Draco. “I heard all this commotion. Mr. Malfoy?”

“Nothing to be worried about, sir.” Draco attempts a charming Blaise-style smile. It fails dismally.

“Oh, _dear_ ,” Flitwick’s frown deepens. “ _Episkey!_ Oh, dear. Mr. Malfoy, you’re going to see Madame Pomfrey _this instant!_ ”

“Sir, I’m perfectly fine,” Draco counters. He’ll heal on his own.

But Flitwick does not take no for an answer and even goes as far as to _levitate Draco_ to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey’s magic immediately joins Flitwicks as they enter the Hospital Wing, and Draco’s set down on a bed. The scent of muskiness and baked goods follow them in.

There are a number of other students in the Hospital Wing, privacy curtains drawn up.

“Filius! Mr. Malfoy! What happened?”

“ _Yes_ , Mr. Malfoy, what happened?” Flitwick adds pointedly.

“It hardly hurts at all,” Draco says instead. He attempts to sit up, only to be pushed down again by Madam Pomfrey. “I need to change my robes,” he tells her. The way his robes are ripped, showing his skin underneath, is highly unsightly.

Pomfrey scowls. “Lie down and _don’t move_.” She casts her diagnostics, her eyes tracking over patterns only she could see. “...How peculiar.”

Flitwick leans in closer, frowning.

Pomfrey recasts, her wand moving in the same patterns. “Your rate of healing is _remarkable_ , Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco blinks and pulls up a sleeve. It’s true: the blood is dried on his arm, but the cut is closed, pink.

“Even general healing-boosting potions would struggle with the number and range of inflicted wounds,” Pomfrey adds. “ _And_ you have a dangerously elevated temperature.”

...ah. Draco knows why. But he plays ignorant, answering no to all her questions. She finally casts a number of healing spells, hands him some dittany, and tells him on no uncertain terms that he’s to stay put in the bed.

Once Pomfrey leaves—with a small vial of Draco’s blood—Flitwick sighs heavily, casting a privacy charm around them.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he says somberly. “Who attacked you? Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

“Professor—”

“I’m _not_ looking away,” Flitwick says. “You're one of my best students. You know dozens of shield charms. You could invent your own, I would imagine.”

There’s a traitorous warmth accompanying Flitwick’s praise. Draco forces it back, his expression and voice taking on a tone of mocking. “Sir, I hope you’re aware that I’m a Death Eater.”

“Under parole,” Flitwick says. “I understand you have restrictions on your wand. But shield charms are permitted.”

“Is it fair, though?” Draco draws his Ministry-issued wand and casts a _scourgify_ on himself. The wand obeys compliantly.

“ _Fair_?”

“That my parents are still alive, not in Azkaban. While many other parents are dead.”

Flitwick purses his lips. “Death is never fair.”

“How about what we Slytherins have done in the last two years? With Umbridge. The Carrows.” Draco’s smirk is hollow. “Don’t you feel guilty that you didn’t suppress us Slytherins more? You have the strength.”

Flitwick shifts uneasily. “We can look to the past, but we must move forward. I can _see_ that you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“But can you trust me? What if this is all an act? You don’t _know_ —unless you use Legilimency or Veritaserum on me. Professor...Sometimes, people deserve to get hurt. This is _nothing_ compared to the War.”

Flitwick sighs heavily, and pats Draco on the knee. “You’re only eighteen. You don’t need to bear the world on your shoulders.”

“No, that’s Potter.”

Flitwick blinks. “This wasn’t _Mr. Potter_ , was it?”

Draco snorts. “Not at all. If it were him, he’ll be in the Hospital Wing alongside me.”

_Merlin_ , why is it so hard to convince Flitwick that he’s an evil ice cold Slytherin?

Flitwick’s expression lightens. “Ah, yes, Rubeus—Hagrid—mentioned whether or not you wanted to accompany him to meet the thestrals again.”

_….No wonder_.

“I can find my own way,” Draco says cooly. “Professor, since you’re disallowing me to leave, who will fix the hazards left in the corridor?”

“It will be dealt with.”

“Draco? Draco!” Pansy’s voice carries from the Hospital Wing entrance, as she forces the doors open.

Madame Pomfrey hurries over. “It’s past visiting time now, Ms. Parkinson.”

“I don’t care,” Pansy tosses her hair. “Unless you want me to worry so much that I can’t sleep tonight and then I’ll come tomorrow morning, all ill and—”

Draco’s lips curve up as Pansy squabbles with Madame Pomfrey. Blaise appears behind her, and with him talking, they quickly gain admittance into the Hospital Wing.

“Recover well,” Flitwick says. He smiles and greets Pansy and Blaise, and goes to talk to Pomfrey before leaving.

“ _There you are_ ,” Pansy scowls. “I thought you were dead in some back-corridor!” She pokes at him, and her lip curls as she pulls the tattered remains of his robes apart, revealing the bare skin underneath.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Draco rolls his eyes, but holds still as Pansy checks, poking his bare skin with her wand. “Blaise, summon me some robes for tomorrow morning, and my sleepwear for tonight.”

Blaise does so good naturedly. Draco inspects the subtle starry pattern on the robes and approves.

“The Hufflepuffs are _lucky_ you’re here, they narrowly missed us storming their den,” Pansy scowls fiercely. 

“Ella and the others?”

“Healing,” Blaise says. “They told us what happened, but as for what occurred _after_ they left…” Both he and Pansy give Draco expectant looks.

Draco outlines what happened. Pansy’s frown deepens.

“So you... _knew_? When you suddenly ran out—”

“Maybe I’m getting _really_ allergic to Hufflepuffs.”

“From corridors away,” Pansy deadpans.

“Pomfrey’s attempting to find out what’s wrong with me,” Draco offers. “You could join her.”

“You’re a bastard,” Pansy says, flicking Draco’s forehead.

Draco frowns. “You’re going to put a red spot there,” he grumbles.

They bicker back and forth, until Pomfrey comes out of her office again and puts her foot down about Pansy and Blaise leaving.

“We’ll come back later,” Pansy whispers as she gives him a farewell hug.

“ _No_ late-night visits,” Pomfrey interjects.

“Don’t mind me, I won’t die overnight,” Draco says. “If I do, you can have everything.” He lowers his voice, adding only for Pansy, “If we had those communication devices, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Pansy scrunches up her nose, giving him an exasperated look. But she and Blaise finally heed Pomfrey’s words and leave for the night.

Draco rubs his chest once they leave. There’s a stretched feeling, that gets tighter and tighter the further his friends go. Comforting to know that they exist, but distressing to know they’re so far away.

Pomfrey makes a round of all the students in the Hospital Wing and decisively _nox_ ’es the room.

Darkness descends. Draco carefully picks out the different noises in the Hospital Wing. There are quiet footsteps coming closer. He casts a new large _Muffliato_ around him.

And says, “Potter, any more of your silent gazing and I’d think you fancy me.”

With Draco’s sharp hearing, Potter’s breath has quickened.

Draco rolls his eyes. He says drily, “I noticed when you followed me into the Hospital Wing. Don’t play blind, Potter.”

Draco lets the silence drag, yawning lightly.

“...Fine,” Potter grumbles. His body appears, silvery material pooling in hands under the dim light. “But like, what the fuck. How did you know?” There’s a pout in Potter’s tone.

“Perhaps it’s because you stink like a Gryffindor. And who else has the habit of stalking old archenemies?”

Potter sniffs himself. Then, with injured annoyance in his tone, he says, “Just wondered why you were in the Hospital Wing, with your robes all sliced off.”

“Mmm, I’m touched that you’re _so worried_ about me, Potter.”

“I’m _not_ worried,” Potter protests. “Wondered who finally got the upperhand.”

“Guess,” Draco allows, since Potter is _so_ worried about him.

“Are you going to tell me if I’m right?”

“No.”

Potter grumbles. “You didn’t fall down the stairs, did you?”

“Has someone tampered with the anti-tripping charms on the stairs?”

“The what charms? Anyway, you weren’t out in the Forest…” Potter trails off with a _hmmmm_.

Draco raises an eyebrow. Now, how did Potter know that? Surely Potter didn’t scour the entire Forest?

“So it had to be someone at Hogwarts…A Professor? A house-elf? A student?”

“I have a lot of enemies.”

Potter snorts. “ _You_ weren’t Undesirable Number One.”

“People hate me _more_ ,” Draco drawls.

“Nah, they hate _me_ more.”

“I beg to differ.”

“They both hate _and_ love me more,” Potter huffs.

“I think your relationship with the people is rather unhealthy.”

Potter laughs. “I know.” He shifts and sits down on the bed. Draco allows it.

After a long moment, Potter sighs. In a very quiet voice, he says, “Do you think there will be a third war?”

Draco nudges him with his foot. “I surely hope not,” he drawls, “It’s terrible for the British economy.”

Potter slaps his leg childishly.

“And I assume that great git Hatty Potty will protect us once again.”

Potter jabs his leg. Draco retaliates by kicking him again.

“What, do you want me to stay and keep watch while you sleep?”

“If you wanted to look at my face so much, I’ll have Blaise take a picture for you,” Draco drawls. When Potter doesn’t reply, he continues, “Are you embarrassed? You’re very bizarre, Harry James Potter.”

“...The—what—you! You’re a prick, Draco Lucius Malfoy,” Potter says, words fumbling a tad. It’s definitely _not_ endearing, not at all.

“Go to bed,” Draco tells him sternly. “You barely slept yesterday.”

“You’re not my mum.”

“How about your dad, then?”

“ _Malfoy!_ ”

“If you cannot think back better retorts, it’s _certainly_ time for bed. I would offer you a place to sleep with me, but I can also imagine Madam Pomfrey’s reaction tomorrow…”

Potter grumbles. “So you’re not going to tell me who hurt you?”

“Who’s to say _I_ didn’t hurt anyone?”

“I—”

“Don’t defend me, Potter.” Draco channels the voice he uses on first years on the first night at Hogwarts. “ _Go to bed_.”

Potter finally leaves, but his scent remains, mixing in with Pansy’s and Blaise’s.

Draco inwardly shakes his head. _Gryffindors!_

*

After Filius Flitwick leaves the Hospital Wing, he quickly locates Pomona Sprout to aid him in the corridor clean-up.

“What on _earth?_ ” Pomona says in dismay as she sees the aftermath.

Filius quickly relays what he knows as the two of them work side-by-side to clean up the mess. Unfortunately, the paintings this close to the Kitchens are still life and landscapes. There is no portrait they can question.

“And the temperature charms are gone too,” Pomona realises, brows drawing together. “How did they hit the spell anchor…” She trails off.

Both of them can see that the original anchor for the spell is intact.

Given that the location is closer to the Hufflepuff Dormitories, Pomona takes the lead in surveying the embedded magic. “One of its lines has been severed,” she says in disbelief. “What kind of foreign magic were those students playing with?”

“What indeed,” Filius says heavily. He’s under no illusion about whether Draco Malfoy will tell him what happened.

It takes the two of them together to fix the thread of magic and reconnect the local temperature charm with the rest of Hogwarts’ magic.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of some actual magical theory (as I wrote in the tags)?? hahaha
> 
> **Jamie:** *sees Draco flying a broom indoors* 🥺🥺🥺  
>  **Draco:** ... Do as I say, not as I do  
>  **Jamie** : 😢😢😢
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*  
>  **Harry** , under his invisibility cloak, seeing Draco’s skin being revealed in the Hospital wing: *nosebleed*
> 
> *meanwhile, in _another_ alternate universe*  
>  **Harry** : You’re not my mum.  
>  **Draco** : Then call me daddy.  
>  **Harry** : *blushes red* Wah-what do you mean! You—you’re not my daddy!


	7. Chapter 7

Despite her frown at Draco’s high temperature, Madam Pomfrey lets Draco go in the morning, so he’s back in the Slytherin Commons just as groups are preparing to leave for breakfast.

“Here,” Pansy says without fanfare, pressing an object into Draco’s hand. It’s a badge.

“No welcome back?” Draco says drily.

“With you incapacitated, I made a bunch more. Aster helped. And before you ask, I _did_ try the two-way mirror charms, but I can only link two together. This one is linked to mine, and it only transfers sound.”

Draco suppresses an eyeroll. He’s the _last_ person she needs to keep an eye on, but he pockets the badge nonetheless. “I’ll buy Aster a gold cauldron.”

Pansy pinches him on the arm. “What about me?”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Should I get you a gift each time you complete your homework?”

With a growl, Pansy tugs Draco’s head down and violently messes up his hair.

“The fuck, Pansy!”

Pansy steps back, highly satisfied with herself. She smirks. “Imagine if Potter saw your hair like that.”

Draco gives her a glare. “Go and accompany the first group to the Great Hall,” he says instead, ignoring Pansy’s knowing expression.

Draco adjusts his robes and hair and turns to younger Slytherins. Ella, Jamie, Michelle and Alyss have all chosen to eat breakfast in the Commons this morning. Ella is with her sixth year friends, while Jamie, Michelle, and Alyss are seated together.

There is no scent of injury or fading offensive spells around them anymore, but Draco gives Jamie a critical look regardless.

“Ms. Parkinson healed me,” Jamie mumbles.

“Did she give you a new badge?”

Michelle nods for the three of them. “Yes, sir...Mr. Malfoy? Did you know those Hufflepuffs?”

Draco has a humourless expression. He doesn’t know them, but those Hufflepuffs have delusions of knowing _him_.

“If they’re looking for me, then send them to me and I’ll deal with them. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

After making a round of the students in the Commons, Draco joins Blaise with the second group of Slytherins heading to the Great Hall.

There are a lot of people looking at him this morning. Flitwick has a complicated considering expression, and Hagrid clearly wants something from Draco.

Gardiner looks at him from the corner of her eye. As long as she looks at _him_ instead of his Slytherins, Draco will allow it. Perhaps she’ll learn something about the _proper_ wearing of robes, but Draco does not bother to hope.

And there’s the gossipy looks from the general student body. How tedious. From what he can hear from their not-quiet talking, they know he’s been in to see the Aurors, and that he’s been to the Hospital Wing.

However, the order has been flipped, lowering Draco’s opinion of the Hogwarts’ student cohort once again.

_“Who do you think Malfoy attacked? The Aurors were even called in, but he’s still here.”_

_“ **Special** treatment obviously.”_

_“Do you think McGonagall’s covering up for Malfoy’s rule breaking?”_

_“Surely not McGonagall, she’s scary strict…”_

Draco sits down at the Slytherin table, facing outwards. He gives Potter a raised eyebrow from across the Hall as he pours himself a cup of coffee. Potter scowls back weakly, more of a pout than anything. Draco smirks. No doubt Potter’s been thinking the entire night for a good comeback to Draco’s _How about your dad?_ statement.

“Hm, I see,” Blaise comments.

Draco pauses from his selection of the morning’s pastries, smirk fading to an unimpressed look. “Received enlightenment, did you?”

Blaise’s smile looks a lot like Pansy’s knowing one. “Hm, Potter must have come last night after we left.”

“...”

Draco selects a gibassier and leviates over the pot of honey butter. “Did you sleep well without me last night?” he drawls. “Feeling cold and lonely?”

Blaise continues to smile. “Inciting jealousy may work, though you truly do _not_ need to do anything special to attract Potter’s attention. He seems complacent enough to watch you eating.”

Despite himself, Draco glances at Potter. Who is indeed watching him eat.

Draco snorts. “You and Pansy clearly have too much time on your hands, developing strange worlds in your mind. How about you help Pansy with the two-way mirror charms?”

Despite Blaise’s agreement, Draco doesn’t feel settled at all, dammit. But it’s not as though he can avoid Potter, since Potter is the one going around looking for _him_!

*

Flitwick is extra attentive to Draco during Charm’s class. He’s also _smiling_ at Draco. And his friends have noticed.

In the last portion of the class where everyone is practicing, Flitwick makes a round handing out marked assignments.

“ _Excellent_ work, Mr. Malfoy,” he says as he hands back Draco’s report on non-verbal spells. “It was a pleasure to read.”

Pansy and Blaise are smirking. Draco should disown them for traitorous actions.

“Thank you, sir.”

“If you’re interested in continuing to delve into the technical aspects, then Professor Vector has some papers. I’m sure Professor Garren will speak with you about your future career prospects, but allow me to be biased and say that you would do well with a Charms Mastery.”

Draco blinks. “Thank you, sir,” he manages to say. He’d been planning to do a Potions Mastery and then take over the Malfoy estates and companies.

Flitwick’s voice lowers meaningfully. “And if you ever need to talk...my office is open.”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco says again. “Have a good day.”

Flitwick’s returning smile is half genuine and half disappointed.

Once class ends and they leave, Pansy immediately props an arm on Draco’s shoulder.

“Oooh, professor’s _favourite_.”

Draco shakes his head. “No possible. I’m a Slytherin. He simply wants to know what happened last night.”

Pansy’s smile fades. “Why do you have to remind me of the reality of the world?” she grumbles.

“Simply returning the favour.”

But if he has to have a Ravenclaw as a Head of House, Flitwick would be _much_ preferable over Garren…

*

Pansy is already lounging in bed when the time approaches 10pm, her work scattered all over their shared bed. Draco wrinkles his nose at the array of papers and unfinished work on his desk, but he stands up nonetheless.

“Where are you going?” Pansy realises when Draco’s half out of their dormitory room.

“Have you forgotten that some of our third years had detention tonight?”

Pansy swears. “I _knew_ it was too quiet without Nolan’s outbursts.” She starts to rise. “Let me get dressed.”

“Pans, I can go alone,” Draco says drily. “I’m not a first year who needs accompaniment.”

His arm starts throbbing out of nowhere. Draco quickly suppresses his expression, pulling out the badge Pansy had made. “I have this, remember?”

“Are you going to _use_ it though?” Pansy says, unconvinced. “Worrying about you strikes years off my life.”

“All the more necessary for you to get some beauty rest,” Draco drawls.

Pansy throws another badge at his face. “Fine. Go, and come back quickly.”

Draco rolls his eyes at her granted permission.

Nolan Larch, and his friend Harley Gerble, have detention for fighting with some muggleborns. The epitome of hot-headed teenagers who give Draco a headache.

Argus Filch has them, but there is no pre-given location. That poses no problems: as long as Draco doesn’t think too hard about the how and why and mechanics of it, he can let his feet carry him to them.

He turns into a corridor, and there’s someone turning into the corridor on the opposite end.

Brown hair, open robes, and sneering lips. Professor fucking Garren.

Draco’s jaw tightens. He can feel the tug in his chest. His Slytherins are so close—they must be in one of the classrooms on the corridor yonder, cleaning.

“ _Mr. Malfoy_ ,” Garren says sharply, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing, wondering about? It’s past curfew.”

“If I recall Professor McGonagall’s words, Eighth Years don’t _have_ curfew,” Draco drawls, raising one eyebrow.

Garren scowls, voice rising sharply. “Have you forgotten your place already? You don’t have the _luxury_ to act so flauntingly. Unless you’re itching for an expulsion—”

“We just have to be considerate and _quiet_ ,” Draco says calmly. He stands straighter, pulling the presence of the dragon closer to his skin.

Garren draws back from an oppressive feeling he doesn’t understand. Realising that, he sneers even more, voice a sharp hiss, “What did I tell you at the start of the year, Malfoy? _Perfect behaviour!_ Then I hear from _Flitwick_ that you’ve landed yourself in the Hospital Wing! From _Flitwick!_ You’ve made a mockery of me amongst the staff!”

Draco blinks, a mocking smile on his lips. “My _sincere_ apologies, sir.”

“ _Don’t_ you take that tone with me! I’m the _Head of Slytherin_.”

“As you say, sir.”

Except, Garren clearly hates Draco’s face. “Go back to the Dungeons.”

“As you command, sir.”

Garren glares him down.

Stomach burning, Draco has to go against all his instincts and walk away from his Slytherins.

One corridor, two corridors...Draco turns sharply and loops back after making sure Garren’s gone.

“Filch is such a _bastard_ ,” comes Nolan’s voice down the corridor. It’s not particularly loud, but Draco can hear. They must have finished their detention while Draco was busy shaking off Garren.

“Let’s go back quickly, we’ll ask one of the fifth years instead of Parkinson…”

“Ask her what?” Draco says.

Both Nolan and Harley startle.

“...Sir,” Nolan finally says. “It’s…”

Harley is grimacing in pain, holding his arm awkwardly.

Without a word, Draco draws his wand and heals his twisted arm. As he does so, the pain in his own fades away.

“Who did this?”

“It was Filch,” Harley immediately says, scowling hard. “He _said_ he just wanted to pull me, but he clearly did it on purpose!”

“How did he expect us to clean everything in just one night without our wands?!” Nolan bursts out. “He’s just jealous of us! What’s the point of Filch anyway? The house-elves do a much better job of everything!”

“Yeah! Mr. Malfoy, can you get him fired?”

“Mr. Malfoy, can you make an anti-Filch badge?”

Draco resists the urge to rub his temples at the two children clamouring for his attention in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor. He was never this annoying when he was their age.

“Did you complete your detention successfully?”

Nolan crosses his arms. “Yes, of course, we’re not _babies_.”

Draco reaches out and pats both Nolan and Harley on their heads, ruffling their hair.

“Good.”

They both freeze. They both unconsciously press their heads against Draco’s warm hands. Fuck, the two third years are still so _small_.

“Now, I know it’s hard, but try to refrain from fighting others. If there is any problem, come to me and I’ll deal with it.”

“Mmmm,” they both hum agreeably.

Draco is alarmed that this technique has worked so well. He fervently hopes their enemies don’t catch on with this.

“Let’s go back to the Commons.”

“Mmm,” they agree. They both look disappointed when Draco takes his hands away, looking like Draco’s wronged them.

Inwardly, Draco sighs. They were supposed to use their Slytherin wiles to dominate their chosen fields, not to act spoiled and elicit sympathy!

Draco needs to be harder on them...after he makes sure they’re safely back in the Slytherin Dungeons.

*

After Mr. Malfoy leaves, Harley and Nolan make their way to the third years boys dormitory.

Harley whispers to Nolan, “Do you think it’s weird that Mr. Malfoy…”

Nolan scowls, shoving Harley. “I didn’t see you complaining!”

“Well, that’s because you didn’t either!” Harley shoves back. “Aren’t we too old for that?”

“Then I’ll tell Mr. Malfoy never to do that again to you, alright?” Nolan says impishly.

“...” Harley also scowls. “Let’s just get to bed.”

*

There’s something wrong with the staircases the next morning. They don’t _point_ to where Slytherin students want to go, and while Felicity finds a long way to reach the Great Hall and classrooms above, it’s not a sustainable solution.

There’s nothing for it, Draco will skip his first class—Potions—in order to fix it. He can’t in good conscience let any other Slytherin be late for class.

Pansy and Blaise stay with him, because they never listen to him when he tells them to go ahead. Pansy keeps watch, while Blaise caresses the wall very peculiarly.

“Draco, you could—”

Draco ignores him, casting a spell that allows him to directly see magic patterns.

Juvenile spells have jammed the motion mechanism, overwhelming the staircases’ ability to sense students’ requirements. The pattern of spells is spidery and holey in his vision, and deft cuts in certain strands make the hex fall apart.

The staircase shudders with a low hum that sends a shiver up Draco’s bones. It’s not _unpleasant_ per se. But when he tries to investigate further, the hum disappears and the staircase moves smoothly once more.

“You didn’t listen to a word I said,” Blaise sighs. He pats the wall, and the staircase magic patterns seem to even out a bit more.

“My way _worked_ , didn’t it?” Draco huffs. “ _And_ I was faster than you.”

Blaise acquiesces.

Pansy rolls her eyes. “ _Boys_ ,” she mutters.

They ascend the stairs together and head to Potions. Between all the running back and forth and fixing though, they’re of course late.

Garren’s eyes immediately darken when he sees Draco, but he pulls a forced smile when Blaise greets him.

“Get into partners, quickly,” he grounds out. “We’re brewing Blood-Replenishing Potions, and you three have lost _valuable_ time. I doubt you’ll be even able to finish it before class ends.”

The three of them exchange looks. Partners means one of them has to leave.

“Oh, in that case, I’ll work with Malfoy,” Potter suddenly says.

_What_.

“I’m sure Mr. Malfoy is capable on his own,” Garren says with a cold smile.

Potter tilts his head. “But you said partners. And I was working with Ron and Hermione.” He beckons Draco and winks. “I hope you’re ready for me to drag you down a few grades.”

Garren’s face freezes. “How considerate. Class, back to work!”

Pansy winks exaggeratedly. “Go on.”

Draco ignores her.

Potter’s is dumping his things on a new laboratory bench. WIth exasperation, Draco levitates all the rest of Potter’s things over and arranges them neatly on the bench.

“Heh, thanks,” Potter says with a crooked grin.

“I’m sure you know the initial steps?”

Potter wrinkles his nose. “Maybe.” He glances back at Granger and Weasley, who are looking their way.

“Then I will _trust you_ to lay out all the equipment and start the base while I collect the rest of the ingredients.”

Despite Potter’s panicked face, he doesn’t mess up the potion base. He’s also capable of following simple, precise instructions, which is good when Draco’s hand starts bleeding out of the blue and he has to quickly and quietly _Episkey_ it before it contaminates the Blood Replenishing Potion.

By the end of the lesson, they have a completed potion despite Garren’s expectations otherwise.

“Look, Hermione!” Potter says, carrying their vial over to his friends.

“It looks good,” Granger says, eyes darting to Draco.

Draco looks away, unhurriedly cleaning the work desk. But he can still hear.

“I saw that you stirred clockwise 5 times then counterclockwise three times, instead of seven times clockwise.”

“Er, I did?”

“And what’s up with you and Malfoy?” Weasley complains.

“Er, something’s up? Let me give this to Garren real quick so I can help Malfoy clean up.”

Draco can perfectly imagine Potter’s confused face. Next bench over, Blaise is looking at him, a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“That was really good,” Potter says, finally back. “We should work together again.”

“I don’t know if you can afford me,” Draco drawls, holding the cool expression. “And I’m certainly not going to buy you from your friends.”

_Who are currently glaring at him_.

Potter narrows his eyes. “What? _Malfoy!_ ”

“You would never make it as a Slytherin.”

In the hubbub of noise as other students pack up and begin to leave, Potter leans in closer and whispers, “I was almost sorted into Slytherin.”

Draco inhales a lungful of Potter’s scent. Less smelly-Gryffindor-boy this morning, thank Merlin.

“ _Almost_ ,” Draco raises an eyebrow. “Not good enough, hm?”

Potter scrunches his nose. “No, because a certain _arch-rival_ was in Slytherin.”

Draco’s smirk widens. “Too scared that you wouldn’t be able to beat me for the top position in Slytherin?”

“ _Malfoy_ ,” Potter huffs. “I’m _king_ of the tower, and you Slytherins are in the basement. Hey, will you go feeding the thestrals again?”

“And when did you become Hagrid’s lackey? As much as you love talking to me, another time, Potter. I can’t have your friends murdering me for monopolising your time.” Draco shoves Potter towards Granger and Weasley. “Now go back to your parents.”

“Another time. I’ll find you,” Potter says rather ominously. “...And they’re not my parents!”

“Then are you going to call me—”

“Let’s go, Harry, I want to ask Professor Coates something before class,” Granger says, pulling Potter away. Little did she know that she granted the last word to Draco: all Potter can do is glare over his shoulder.

As the Golden Trio walks away, Pansy loops her arm with Draco’s, and Blaise on her far side.

“Did I hear you use the word _love_?”

“And what kind of terrifying schemes should I expect from you on Valentine’s Day?” Draco says pointedly.

Pansy cackles. “You better watch out.”

Draco’s certain. His friends are living in their own world.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Draco** : I was never an annoying brat when I was a third year. I was highly refined, mature beyond my years.
> 
> **Pansy** : …
> 
> **Blaise** : …
> 
> **Harry** : …
> 
>   
> *in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Hermione** : What was that?
> 
> **Harry** *blushing*: I—I don’t love talking to Malfoy! No way! When he said 'love', he was joking! Joking!
> 
> *Draco walks by*
> 
> *smitten expression on Harry’s face*
> 
> **Ron** : Bloody hell. We’re doomed.
> 
> *in an alternate xianxia universe*
> 
> **Nolan & Harley**: *dark expressions as they thoroughly defeat the disciples from the other sect*
> 
> **Nolan & Harley**: Senior Martial Brother! Senior Martial Brother Draco! *puppy-dog eyes*
> 
> **Draco** : …
> 
> _What do his two black-bellied white lotus junior martial brothers want now?_
> 
>   
> *
> 
> 😅😅😅😅 in the alternate universe, the romance between Harry and Draco is advancing faster than the real (“real”) universe. I think writing ridiculousness is my calling...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dead animals

**__** _Fenrir Greyback brusquely wipes his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. Around him is the carnage of dead livestock. His pack—all in their human forms, like him—are feeding like wolves._

_“..Hey! Hey, what are you doing here?” a dazed looking wizard hops down from his broom, wand casting a weak light around them._

_Fenrir smirks, baring his teeth. “And what little sheep are you?” he murmurs._

_The farmer-wizard gasps. He quickly stumbles back. “Stop! Don’t move._ Aegis _will get you!”_

_Fenrir laughs. “Fucking Aegis. They’re too scared to deal with_ me _.” Fenrir leaps, claws out, teeth sharp._

_The wizard annoyingly disapparates away in time, forgotten broom clattering to the ground. Fenrir snarls and tells his wolves to make a mess of the field. They leave long before the Aurors arrive._

*

In Draco’s shared dorm room, uttering the pass-spell will reveal a large map. He, Pansy and Blaise have been tracking all the appearances of Greyback’s pack and Aegis.

According to the news reports, Greyback’s been sticking to rural areas.

According to the letters from Narcissa and numerous other parents of Slytherins, Aegis has been systematically targeting the houses of purebloods.

Alone in the dorm room, Draco places down another marker after speaking to a younger student. It’s now Saturday: the end of the week seems to be Aegis’s preferred nights, likely due to the day jobs of the people behind Aegis. Greyback has no such scruples as days of the week.

Staring at their patterns which never meet, Draco’s lips curl in distaste, hot smoke wisping into the air. It would be much too easy for the two of them to take each other out.

In fact, it would be in Aegis’s _favour_ to have Greyback running around and causing trouble.

The door opens and Blaise steps in. He frowns slightly.

“Looking at that isn’t helpful,” Blaise says. 

Draco snorts. “They don’t care to mask their patterns.”

“Hm. I spoke to Professor Flitwick when I was accompanying the third years to his office. He spoke to Hagrid…”

Draco scowls. “You _too_? Fine, I’ll go off and see the bloody thestrals then!”

Blaise’s innocent expression doesn’t change in the slightest. “I made no mention of the thestrals.”

Draco glares at him and strides out. He meets Pansy at the Slytherin exit.

“Going to see the thestrals?” she comments. “Good, you’re less angry after visiting them. You’ll create frown lines too early, darling.”

“I’ll look handsome long after you grow old,” Draco retorts. “I trust _you_ to look after everyone while I’m gone.”

“Yes, Draco,” Pansy says, amusement in her tone.

Unfortunately, Draco has to grudgingly admit, Pansy is partially right. It’s not the visiting-the-thestrals that helps settle his magic, but the _transformation_.

Ducking into the cool Forbidden Forest, Draco makes sure that no one is watching, and transforms. The magic that pushes and crashes under his human skin expands and fills the large dragon form.

The transformation isn’t as painful this time—maybe because this time, Draco doesn’t feel like he _has_ to change. Or maybe the human side and dragon side are merging. This would explain a lot of the recent changes to his body, like the high body temperature and the fast healing rate.

But it _doesn’t_ explain how the mysterious wounds appear on his body in the first place.

After a moment’s reacquaintance with the dragon’s frame, Draco shakes out his wings and leaps into the air. Where the Forest is cool and misty and dark, the sky above is bright cloudy white, and the canopy a deep green, and hiding all the dangerous creatures within.

Draco ascends higher and higher, and it slowly dawns to him just how _big_ the Forbidden Forest is.

Too big to be defensible.

Mountains and caves form perfect shelter-holes, too small for dragons to get inside.

Draco narrows his eyes and focuses. Despite the form, he’s _still_ a wizard. With destination, determination, and deliberation…

_BOOM!_ A tight squeeze and Draco spirals out right above the mountains, the loud explosion of his apparition echoing into the distance. A flock of birds take flight in shock and a number of annoyed creatures in the Forest grumble.

Draco lets out swirls of white smoke in exhilaration. He’ll have to work on silent apparition, but he’s well pleased. He flies as fast as he can and performs dives, apparating again just before he hits the canopy, and scaring another flock of flying creatures. He emerges out high in the sky above the Forest.

If he could fight in this form, _with magic_ , then combined with a dragon’s natural defense against magical and physical attacks, he’s confident he can take down his enemies without too much trouble.

For a moment, Draco bares his teeth. If the Dark Lord were still around, wouldn’t it be so ironic if Draco were to kill him, the very person who forced this dragon form upon Draco?

Movement below him, above the canopy, catches his eyes. Skinny, boney creatures flying just yonder. Thoughts of toasting the Dark Lord in flames disappear.

Draco can’t resist. He puts in a burst of speed and pulls up with a sharp gust of wind that unsettles some of the thestrals, especially the little ones. 

The thestral leader bumps into his neck none-to-gently in rebuke. Draco pulls away, dips, rolls and loops in the air.

The adults give him space, but the little thestrals loop in the air—or try to, at least. One of them tumbles, and Draco uses the tip of his snout to nudge it upright. Thestrals, like winged abraxans, were not naturally suited for aerial acrobatics.

The thestral leader tries to reprimand him again, but it’s too late. The little thestrals now want to copy Draco.

_This_ is victory to Draco. He huffs amused white smoke, and teaches the little thestrals how to fly like him.

*

Back at the thestrals’ glen, the younger thestrals fold bony legs, wings spread out, to rest in exhaustion. Draco lands and transforms back, taking a moment to resettle into a much smaller, more vulnerable frame.

Once he’s donned his clothes again, he approaches the thestral leader.

She huffs in an annoyed tone, nudging her boney head against Draco’s side none-too-gently. Except in human form, it actually hurts.

Draco scowls back. “What, do you don’t want my updates?”

The thestral leader thumps a hoof on the ground and gives him a white-eyed stare.

Rolling his eyes, Draco tells her about the recent movements of Greyback and Aegis. 

Then, _surprise, surprise_ , Potter appears—without Hagrid.

“Oh, you’re dressed,” Potter says. He’s still staring at Draco’s chest though.

Draco smoothes down the already smooth front of his robes and leans against the thestral leader. “Potter,” he drawls. “How nice to see you again.”

Potter gingerly steps closer. And then, in a burst of Gryffindorness, he starts petting the thestral leader. She allows it, pressing into the affection, and shifting away from Draco.

Draco makes a face. _Traitor_ , he thinks. She’s only ever mean to _him_.

“So Malfoy,” Potter says, attempting to sound casual. “What _are_ you up to? No naked rituals today?”

“Keep saying it like that, and Pansy will think we’re shagging,” Draco says with a roll of his eyes. “Blaise probably already does.”

Potter’s cheeks go red. “What—you—no!” He hides his face behind the thestral leader, and asks her, “Hey, can _you_ tell me what’s up with Malfoy?”

She gives a negative neigh.

“But I was wondering,” Potter says, tone turning serious again. “Was it a Gryffindor?”

“Speak in full sentences, Potter.”

“I think I saw a group of Gryffindors trying to light some kid’s bag on fire. On my way out here.”

Draco stills. “How are they?” he says, voice strained.

“The Gryffindors? Or the Slytherins? They’re both fine. I think.”

“Then if it’ll make you feel better, it _wasn’t_ a Gryffindor.”

Potter frowns. “I don’t know if it makes me feel better. Maybe most of the Slytherins didn’t fight for Hogwarts. Or didn’t fight at all. But that’s not all your fault, is it? McGonagall forced you all to go back to the Dungeons.” He sighs heavily. “Would it kill people to be _nice_?”

Draco’s expression darkens, heart twisting uncomfortably. Wasn’t Draco...one of the people who _wasn’t_ nice? Being nice was simply declaring to be stepped on.

The smell of bloody meat stirs the thestrals. The thestral leader pulls away from them.

“HARRY! And Malfoy!” Hagrid stomps into the clearing, with Luna Lovegood by his side. Hagrid smiles widely as he looks between Draco and the thestrals and Harry. “I knew there was some good in you, Malfoy!”

Draco narrows his eyes at the man who’s the cause of the rumours that he’s _in with the thestrals_. “Professor, the thestrals _bother_ me.”

If any, Hagrid’s smile grows even brighter. He sets down his buckets of meat. “I’ve lunch for these beauties, so you two are just in time to feed them!”

Lovegood steps forward. “Hi Harry, Draco,” she says brightly. “How lovely to see you two together!”

“ _Lovegood_ ,” Draco says pointedly. They might be cousins, but they are cousins in the way he and the late Nymphadora Tonks were cousins—Lovegood’s father is struck off from Malfoy family trees.

Lovegood doesn’t even blink as she sets down her own levitating crate, and dips one hand into it to grab a slick piece of unidentified meat. She continues to smile as she feeds a thestral. “I’m so happy the two of you have talked!”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Potter hastily says. “I just happen to bump into Malfoy in the middle of the Forest and—”

Draco quickly distances himself from Potter who’s digging himself into a big hole. Instead, he loudly asks Hagrid about the optimal feed for thestrals, meaning that Hagrid’s loud voice takes over the conversation all about thestral nature and food habits.

When they’re done, Hagrid shoos them back to Hogwarts for their own lunch. Draco exasperatedly spells Potter’s hands clean, and then _scorgifies_ Lovegood’s hands too, just in case.

As they walk back, Lovegood places herself between Draco and Potter.

“So,” she says, looking at Potter. “What do you know about dragons?”

“They’re really protective of their eggs,” Potter says sheepishly. “Sharp claws, lots of teeth. But _Charlie’s_ the one who knows about dragons. Maybe Ron? Do you think he absorbed some knowledge on accident?”

Lovegood hums. “Dragons are _beautiful_ creatures. They’re protective of their young and of their loved ones.”

“Never tickle them, never wake them,” Potter says, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Grumpy, grouchy, a lot like a certain person.”

Draco narrows his eyes. “I could eat you up for saying that.”

Potter chuckles. “I’m waiting for it.”

Lovegood beams, and Draco glares at the two of them and scoffs.

On the main grounds surrounding the castle, there are various students, sitting on the grass, and the benches, or slowly walking around the gardens.

“Aha!” a student exclaims, somewhere over by the grass near the trees. “I’m here to defeat you! _Expelliarmus!_ ” The student is dressed in all black muggle clothing, and has a matte-black mask over their lower face.

“ _Hey!_ ” the other student yelps as their wand flies away from them. “You were supposed to _pretend_! And seriously, why do I have to be the bad guy. My family’s on the right side!”

“Well, it’s not like we can grab a Slytherin for practice,” the first student replies. “Since Potter’s not doing Dumbledore’s Army anymore…”

“I know, I know…”

The students don’t realise Draco can hear.

Potter frowns. “We shouldn’t _need_ Dumbledore’s Army anymore.”

“They’re pretending to be Aegis,” Lovegood says.

Potter’s head snaps towards them. “What, _why_? I don’t remember them ever pretending to be the Order of the Phoenix!”

“For all their actions, the Ministry is tolerating Aegis,” Draco says, lip curling in distaste. “The _Daily Prophet_ is doing its best to distance itself from how it behaved during the War, by promoting all those who stand against Voldemort.” His voice dips into a growl. “And of course, Aegis is on the _right_ side. Dealing justice where the Ministry is too weak.”

_Against anyone even remotely related to the Dark Lord...except conveniently_ not _Greyback._

“This—” Potter starts.

Draco doesn’t hear the rest of Potter’s words as phantom pain strikes his face.

At least, Draco _hopes_ it’s phantom. His chest tightens. His eyes snap to somewhere inside Hogwarts Castle.

“I need to go. Good day, Potter. Lovegood.”

Draco ignores Potter’s garbled response behind him, picking up his walk to the point that’s a run through quiet Hogwart corridors. He passes a group of laughing Gryffindors who jeer at him, and finds Jamie, Michelle and Pansy.

Pansy is casting healing spells on Jamie’s face. “Weird...” she mutters. She turns to Draco, and her eyes widen. “The _fuck_.”

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry!” Jamie says, eyes red. “I just wanted to go to the Kitchens quickly, and I didn’t see them and couldn’t get my badge out in time…”

“ _My_ fault,” Pansy says grimly. “The Gryfindors split us up.”

“They took my bag,” Jamie says, sniffing.

“They were ganging up on us,” Michelle mutters, hand curled into a fist.

Draco frowns, taking Jamie’s badge. “It should have worked inside your pocket.” After probing it, he’s sure the badge is still operational. “What spell did they use?”

Jamie shakes his head. “They punched me.”

_Fuck!_ The badge defends against magical attacks. But Draco should have _known_ that the other Houses would resort to muggle violence.

“But _Draco_.” Pansy steps up to him and touches his face. Draco winces—turns out those phantom bruises are real after all. As Pansy keeps prodding though, the pain recedes.

“The _fuck_ ,” she says again.

“Not now,” Draco says pointedly. “Jamie, I’ll accompany you to the Kitchens.”

Jamie shakes his head, sniffing. His lips are downturned, eyes growing wet. “I was going to give the house-elves a gift, but…”

“Then we’ll make it again,” Draco says firmly.

The next hour or so is spent helping Jamie gather a new gift of trinkets and toys. Draco buys Jamie a new bag via express owl order.

Then, he grabs Aster to help him figure out how to weave in defence against physical attacks in the badges.

The problem is that it’s very easy to prevent _anyone_ from coming close, but difficult to ensure that it triggers only during violent events. Adding a function for the badges to detect _intent_ is akin to inanimate legilimency. While there exist wards that can detect intent, wards are stationary, and their spells are anchored across areas much larger than a little badge.

Draco and Aster are unable to achieve anything that day.

It’s only Pansy dragging Draco back that stops him from working through the night.

However, the moment Draco gets into bed, Pansy and Blaise trap him, each crossing an arm and leg over him.

“No sleeping yet,” Pansy commands. “You’re hiding something from us and I want to know it.”

“Come on, dear boy,” Blaise says, a hint of teasing on his tone. “I heard you were consorting with Potter again. _And_ Lovegood. Found another threesome?”

“Did Potter punch you in the exact same places Jamie was hurt?” Pansy continues.

“I don’t know,” Draco scowls. “If you’re not letting me sleep, then let me get up. At this rate, spelling armour-charms into everyone’s clothing may be the only option.”

“What are we talking about?” Blaise asks.

“How injuries _transfer_ to Draco. I was healing Jamie, and some of it disappeared—and reappeared on Draco.”

Blaise prompts himself up on an arm, lips pursed as he examines Draco’s face. “When you healed Draco, did they go back to Jamie?”

“...I didn’t heal him,” Pansy says slowly. “They just healed...right before my eyes.”

“I’m right _here_ ,” Draco says pointedly.

“Be _serious_ ,” Pansy scolds. “You’ve suddenly become a sink for injuries.”

“But I apparently heal very quickly from them,” Draco says eveningly.

“Which is a _problem_. What if it’s a symptom of something else? Will we see you grow another _arm_ soon?”

“Cancerous Limbs Disease?” Blaise muses. “Surely Pomfrey would have picked up from that.”

“ _Or_ it’s more recent,” Pansy counters. “Did Gardiner hit him with something?”

Draco sighs lightly as his friends continue to debate on what it could be, closing his eyes.

He doesn’t tell them about all the other times where this injury transfer has happened. If Pansy’s right, and it _is_ a transfer—not a _copy_ —of injuries, then that’s a _good_ thing.

It means that the Slytherins won’t have to suffer in pain for long for the mistakes that Draco made.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter **started off** serious haha. Then became fluff….then back to seriousness again. Oof.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> **Draco** : Pansy is so annoying.
> 
> **Draco** : *is best friends with Pansy*
> 
> **Draco** : Blaise is so annoying.
> 
> **Draco** : *is best friends with Blaise*
> 
> **Draco** : The thestrals are so annoying.
> 
> **Draco** : *plays with the baby thestrals*
> 
> **Draco** : Potter is so annoying
> 
> **Draco** : *is arch-rivals with Harry*
> 
> **Harry** : ...
> 
> **Pansy & Blaise**: If you say so, Draco… *smirks*
> 
>   
> 
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry** : *looks at his map. Sees Draco out in the Forbidden Forest*
> 
> **Harry** : ...Is he naked out there again? I better go check, quickly!
> 
> **Ron & Hermione:** ...


	9. Chapter 9

_Black-clothed figures surround the countryside villa. Under the command of one of the figures, they point their wands towards the building. The wards shimmer under their onslaught, and fall._

_For a brief moment, the occupants inside are able to reform the wards, but they are not strong enough. They can’t prevent Aegis from entering. With bitterness, the occupants Disapparate, their more precious things having been long moved in case of this exact ‘visit’._

_They will return in the morning to assess the destruction of their family home._

*

In the late afternoon, Draco keeps half his attention on the green-robed quidditch players practicing above the pitch, and half his attention on the protective wards he and Felicity have woven around the area, from the ground to high up into the air.

With the impending first Quidditch match of the season, Captain Evander Urquhart has split the team in half for a mock match. More than once, Draco has bitten back comments. It won’t do to usurp Evander’s leadership on the field.

That doesn’t stop Draco searching for the snitch, though. He catches sight of it more than once, his fingers itching with the need to grab it. Maybe he should goad Potter into a game...

The protective wards tremble.

Draco’s eyes cut towards the strike—the other stands. 

Despite the coldness of late November, students from other houses sit arrogantly in their stands, wearing their robes in the muggle style—split open down the center-front and paired with a muggle uniform underneath.

There’s another two strikes against the wards, coming from opposite sides around the pitch. Then, more and more attacks occur. It’s not strongly coordinated, but the wards are already weakening under the onslaught.

Draco pulls out his protective badge, tapping it to activate. “Felicity. Can you increase the power?”

“Yes, a bit more,” comes Felicity’s reply.

Draco throws more of his own power into the wards, feeling as it weaves in with Felicity’s from the other side of the pitch. For a brief moment, the wards shimmer, especially in the eyes of those more visually sensitive to magic.

The Slytherin team slow down as they notice that something is wrong.

The wards settle and hold. The moment Felicity returns a, “Done,” over the connected badges, Draco strides over to the nearest Quidditch stand and the cluster of muggle-style wearing students.

One of the students hastily hides their wand, but the others don’t care. Some of them dare to sneer at him.

“Preemptively hexing the team?” Draco drawls, his lips curling up in mockery. “Are you _giving_ us the match on Gryffindor’s disqualification? Afraid Gryffindor will lose?”

“You should be disqualified!” a Gryffindor boy snorts. 

“We’re just practicing our Defence Against the Dark Arts,” a skinny Ravenclaw boy says. “So get out of our stand, Malfoy.”

Draco pulls out his Ministry-issued wand and casts a mirror-type shield charm that runs from the ground where the pitch meets the stands, and straight up into the air. “Go right ahead and practice then.”

Irritation grows on the Ravenclaw boy’s face as he recognises the spell. “Wouldn’t you be carted back to Azkaban for hurting us?” he scowls.

“I’m just practicing my Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Draco smirks. “If you get hit by your own spell...how _incriminating_.”

The students all scowl at him.

“Fuck him, let’s go,” the Gryffindor boy says. “Who wants to watch the stupid Slytherins anyway?”

Draco waits until they all leave.

Then he starts heading towards the next group of ill-intentioned students. _They_ however, flee before he reaches them.

With all the dishonest spectators gone, Draco looks back to the Slytherin team’s practice. With the team’s enthusiasm to practice has drastically reduced, Evander has switched them to doing drills instead of a mock match.

With a sense of cynicism, Draco thinks, _We already eat meals in the Slytherin Commons. We already have a fully stocked library in the Commons. We already run extra classes in the Commons. Will we be forced to hold quidditch practice in the Commons too?_

***

Weak morning light flows in from the windows along the corridor.

Aster exits Transfiguration class with relief. Class hasn’t ended, but Professor McGonagall, who continues to teach Transfiguration, has given permission to Aster and their friend, Mesa Wattle, to briefly visit the Hogwarts Library for some books that will be useful for their current transfiguration project.

“Why can’t we use a potion instead,” Aster grumbles, now out of McGonagall’s hearing range.

“Because that would be a permanent transformation,” Mesa says drily.

“There _are_ temporary-effect potions!” Aster insists. They step onto the staircase, hand on the banister. “In fact, some of them are stronger than the permanent ones. Draco and I were thinking of using some temporary-effect potions on the badges instead. Easier than remembering to charm everyone’s clothes in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Mesa says, a wry expression on her face. That wryness turns into fear when, _somehow_ , Aster’s foot slips.

*

Meanwhile, in Potions’ class, Draco is once again working with Potter on a partnered brewing exercise.

Garren’s not happy, gaze constantly flickering to them even as he moves around the classroom. It sparks dark joy in Draco.

“Malfoy?” Potter tilts his head, looking up at Draco.

“Surely _you_ could tell me what the next step is?” Draco says with a raise of his brow, completely unaffected by Potter’s _can-you-do-this-for-me?_ eyes. 

Potter panics and glares at his scribbles-of-notes. Draco waits with a stern look.

While training Potter to become dependent on Draco _sounds_ excellent on paper, Draco _already_ has a whole Slytherin cohort to look after. He doesn’t need to add disaster-star Harry Potter to the mix. No, it’s better to teach Potter to become a competent Potions assistant instead.

“I think I’m supposed to wait until it changes colours?” Potter says slowly.

Draco’s lips quirk at Potter’s hesitancy. With an amused tone, he starts, “Good boy—”

Pain slams down like a hammer. Words strangle in his throat.

Draco collapses.

Bruises bloom across his body, dull pain across his head.

His knee has twisted out of shape. His arm is broken. Both arms. And his _back_. 

Draco can’t move. Knows that scales have appeared on his body, under his robes, trying to protect him as he falls and tumbles and knocks against the hard edge of the stairs— 

“Malfoy! Fuck! Are you alright?!” Potter’s urgent tone drags Draco back to reality.

“Draco!” Pansy’s voice is like a knife through the air.

Sharp, hot breaths. Dragon spine replacing human. Draco’s nails are claws. A bond yanks tightly in Draco’s chest.

Potter and Pansy and Blaise crowd around him.

Potter drops to his knees, reaching out. “Shit, you’re _bleeding_.”

Draco’s breath becomes a sharp hiss through his teeth. His claws dig into the stone floor as he pulls himself into a sitting position. He accepts Pansy’s hand to stand up.

“...Why are you standing?” Pansy scolds, worry and fear across her face. “You’re bleeding!”

“Clean it for me.”

Blaise casts the gentle _scourgify_ to remove the blood threatening to drip into Draco’s eyes.

“I’ll take you Madame Pomfrey!” Potter immediately says, reaching out for Draco.

“I need to go,” he growls when Potter grips his elbow. Draco tugs away and starts limping out of the room.

At each step, anger and fire replaces the pain.

He’s aware that Pansy and Blaise are flanking him. He’s aware that Pansy has told Potter to stay back. He’s aware of Potter protesting to his own friends, their voices getting smaller and smaller.

He’s aware that Garren is ordering to stop.

He’s not fucking stopping for Garren.

He grabs onto Blaise for support—the pain in his arm to hold onto Blaise is minor compared to the pain in his leg. The dragon expands under his skin.

_FIND YOUNGLING!_

“ _Accio broomstick!_ ” Draco snaps. The broom arrives just in time as he reaches the edge of the staircase.

“Draco—” Pansy starts.

“If you’re coming, get _on_.”

Pansy and Blaise climb on after him. Draco steers the broom over the staircase and drops _straight_ down.

They pass by Professor Sprout walking down the stairs. They pass by Mesa Wattle frantically running down.

Draco pulls the broom up sharply to a stop on the landing where Aster is lying, body twisted, blood pooling.

Draco’s breath becomes harsh as he hurries to their side. Magic pulses in his chest, running down that thin thread that connects him to them.

Pansy gasps, horrified. “ _What the fuck!_ ” She kneels by Aster, casting healing charm after healing charm.

“They’re going to be okay,” Blaise says. His voice feels far away, tiny. “Cast a _stasis_ , we’ll bring them to the Hospital Wing...”

Draco is breathing heavily. He wants _so, so much to_ transform. He’s burning. He needs to spread his wings, blanket his friends and Aster. Growl and burn and _rip apart_ whoever did this.

Aster _fell down the stairs._

He needs to destroy those staircases that caused Aster’s fall.

But the staircases of Hogwarts are _charmed_ against falling. Even if someone pushed Aster, the charms would have cushioned them before it got this far.

He needs to destroy those _ants_ who messed with the staircases’ charms—!

Mesa jumps down the last few steps and races to Aster’s side. “It happened so quickly,” she cries. “I tried to catch them but—”

“It’s not your fault,” Blaise murmurs. He leans to the side, magic flickering briefly between his hand and the wall.

Draco rises from Aster’s side, eyes narrowing up the stairs. He doesn’t need a revealing charm to know that _someone_ has jinxed the staircase. Something more complex than the jamming charms on them before.

An older student? A _professor?_ An _outsider?_

And the protego badge didn’t _activate_. Once Aster was falling—there wasn’t any _ill intent_ from the staircase! There wasn’t any ill intent from Hogwarts _castle_.

He and Aster have only the most preliminary charms against ill-intentioned physical attacks on the protego badges. They’ve had to cast protective charms right onto the clothes. That _would_ have protected Aster from a small fall.

But their enemies are getting smarter. Draco is left scrambling to keep up and protect his Slytherins.

And he has failed.

“I’m fine.” Aster’s voice is thin and high, as though they can’t breathe enough air. “It hurt at first but it doesn’t anymore—”

“Fuck, Draco!” Blaise wraps his arms around Draco, pulling him away from the stairs. Draco bites back a cry of pain, but Blaise is much too good to miss it. He turns Draco around and tugs open his robes. Blood has soaked his inner white shirt red.

Professor Sprout stomps down the stairs. “You three _Eighth Years!_ ” she scolds. “Irresponsible, _flying_ inside. What kind of example are you setting—”

Then she clearly sees Aster on the ground. The blood on Draco’s clothes.

“...Why are you standing around here? We need to get you both to the Hospital Wing!”

“I agree,” Blaise says, his usually calm voice tight. His voice drops, words only for Draco. “The Hospital Wing isn’t St. Mungos. Madam Pomfrey has good principles.”

Draco’s eyes darken. “Then what about the next student to fall?”

Blaise turns to Professor Sprout. “Professor, we believe that someone has tampered with the staircase. I will personally take Draco and Aster to the Hospital Wing. Can I inconvenience you to section off the staircase and investigate their integrity?”

Sprout pales. “Of course.” She draws her wand and sends a _patronus_ to McGonagall, while Blaise coolly levitates Draco to the Hospital Wing.

*

Madame Pomfrey and Pansy and even _Blaise_ fuss over him in the Hospital Wing. What they don’t know is that a two-staircase tumble isn’t _that_ much for a dragon

“Give me some peace to heal!” he mutters when Pomfrey casts a particular prickly healing spell on him. “How is Aster?”

“Aster is on the mend and much more obedient than you!” Pomfrey admonishes.

Draco shoots her a grumpy look. If everyone could allow him some privacy, he could bring up more of his dragon side to heal faster. He decides to ignore her spell casting and has Blaise summon him some new clothes and have the blood-stained items handed over to the house-elves for cleaning.

Blaise and Pansy then have to leave briefly to escort the younger Slytherins from class.

Professor Flitwick is one of the first visitors, brows pinching in worry. “Injured again, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I was dizzy and fell in class,” Draco lies, the same lie he told Madam Pomfrey.

But if anything, Flitwick grows even more suspicious. “Dizziness...have you eaten something that was not prepared by a Hogwarts house-elf? Were there poisonous fumes that could have risen from a brewing potion?”

“If it were so, the rest of the NEWTs potions class should be in the Hospital Wing too,” Draco replies.

“Filius,” Madam Pomfrey interjects, “Come to my office, we need to talk.” Her glance at Draco speaks volumes about her intended topic.

Pansy soon returns with the Third Years. With a wry expression, she nudges Nolan forward. “A certain kid didn’t want to return to go to lunch right away.”

“But _I’m_ hungry,” Harley grumbles.

Nolan, ignoring his friend, rushes to Draco’s bedside. “Mr. Malfoy!”

“Why don’t you go see how Aster is doing?” Draco says.

Nolan glances at Aster on the next bed over, then back to Draco. “They look fine,” he says dismissively.

“Thanks,” Aster rolls their eyes.

“... _I_ look fine too,” Draco says drily. “Or are you commenting about my appearance?”

Nolan’s eyes widen. “No, sir!” His jaw tightens, his chest puffing up. “How could you get so injured? Aren’t you the strongest?”

“You’re so stupid,” third year Sequoia Hawks says, rolling her eyes. “Isn’t Harry Potter the strongest?”

Nolan frowns. “You mean Potter hexed Mr. Malfoy?!!”

Draco looks at Pansy over the heads of the third years bickering. But before they can attempt silent communication, the Hospital Wing doors open again, and Potter strides in, followed by his two sidekicks.

“Malfoy!” Potter’s _worried_ tone sounds and feels a lot like Nolan’s. The third year Slytherins move aside as Potter rushes up to Draco’s bed. Nolan glares at Potter, but Potter ignores it.

“Malfoy,” Potter says again, quietly.

Behind him, Pansy smirks. “Nolan, Sequoia, give Mr. Malfoy some privacy.”

Draco gives her a flat stare, but Nolan and Sequoia step over to Aster’s bed inside. Granger and Weasley hover awkwardly a few meters away.

“I thought... Are you cursed?” Potter says, brows drawn up, lips downturned.

“My birth was auspicious, thank you,” Draco drawls.

“A student did this, didn’t they?”

“No.” Draco makes an expression of distaste. “Potter, are you worried about me? I could get up and walk away if Madam Pomfrey will let me, you should know how overly cautious she is.”

But Potter’s expression remains glum. Biting back a sigh, Draco takes Potter’s hand in his.

“Allay your guilt, Potter. Unlike sixth year, you _didn’t_ cause this. And unlike sixth year, I’ll heal without any scars. My handsomeness is untouched.”

Potter’s eyes dip, ears reddening. “You—you’re a _prat_. Who cares about your ugly mug! We’re talking about your life!”

Draco squeezes Potter’s hand tightly until Potter winces. Grumbling, Potter tugs his hand back.

_“Did Malfoy just hurt Harry?”!_ Draco hears Weasley whisper to Granger.

_“He wouldn’t dare_ ,” Granger whispers back, eyes hard.

“Potter. Did you finish our potion?”

Potter’s guilty expression says everything. “I...forgot. I told Garren that it was my fault, but he gave you detention anyway.”

“Madame Pomfrey will override him,” Draco says dismissively. “Now go to lunch, your Weasley looks like his stomach is going to eat him inside out.”

Potter rolls his eyes. “Okay. Get well, Malfoy.” With that, he goes back to his friends and they leave the Hospital Wing—though not without Potter looking back over his shoulder first.

“ _So_ , Draco,” Pansy says, smirking. “Potter—”

“Was worried for me, the utter do-gooder,” Draco snorts. “Go off to lunch, I should be healed by dinner.”

“Certainly _not_ ,” Pomfrey _conveniently_ appears in time to cut in. She jabs a few more spells at Draco. “You’re not going anywhere. You should be resting for _at least_ three days.”

“But the _first_ Quidditch match is tomorrow!” Draco protests.

Pomfrey doesn’t budge, and worse, Flitwick agrees with her.

“Madam Pomfrey mentioned a potential spinal injury, you must stay here,” Flitwick says.

“... _Spinal injury?_ ” Pansy’s voice is sharp, eyes narrowed onto Draco. “You are _not_ going anywhere, or I’ll strap you down myself. I’ll return later with your things.”

Draco has to grudgingly admit defeat.

*

“Where are you going, Harry?”

Harry’s heart leaps to his throat, turning slowly to Hermione. It’s past midnight, and he didn’t expect anyone to still be up. With the invisibility cloak in one hand and the map in the other, he knows full well how incriminating his looks.

Hermione is sitting on the sofa by the fireplace. Her wand casts a _lumos_ , revealing her unimpressed expression.

“I—I couldn’t sleep?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Telling. Definitely telling.”

“Harry…” Hermione sighs with a disappointed tone. “Why do you still care so much about Malfoy? It’s not up to you to help reform him. He’s _not worth it_. Has he even _apologised_ to you?”

“...Yeah, he has.”

Hermione’s expression darkens. “But only to you, then.”

Guiltily, Harry can only return to his dormitory. At least the _Draco Malfoy_ dot is safely in the Hospital Wing.

*

The next morning is Saturday, the day of the first Quidditch match. Aster’s injuries have completely disappeared. Pomfrey reluctantly lets Aster leave on the condition that they come back for a check up every day for a week.

But Draco is not allowed to leave, because his injuries are still detectable.

“With my NEWTs work, I can’t _afford_ to lie in bed for so long,” he argues.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Pomfrey cuts in sternly. She closes the curtains around his bed and lays down a privacy charm.

“You didn’t fall, yet you’re more injured than Mx. Grace,” Pomfrey says, lips pursed.

“My body has been in a worse state,” Draco says pointedly, recalling his sixth year.

“As your Healer. I know you’re a were-dragon—and if you need _any_ help, I’m here. I should have known, when you kept insisting to stay back with the other students during the nights of the full moon.”

Draco freezes. _Were-dragon! She thinks I’m a were-dragon_!

“But it doesn’t explain _your_ injuries,” Pomfrey continues. “Are you and Mx. Aster a magically-bonded pair?”

“We are _not_ bonded,” Draco snorts. “Surely you could tell.”

Pomfrey sighs heavily. “Even _worse_ than Mr. Potter,” she mutters.

Draco sniffs, offended. “I’m much better than Potter.”

Pomfrey ignores him completely. “As far as _I_ can tell, you’re not cursed. However, with your permission, I can request various colleagues’ help. I know many Healers at St. Mungos—”

“ _No_.” Draco feels cold _knowing_ how St. Mungos Healers turn away Death Eaters like _him._

“I’ve _never_ come across a were-dragon,” Pomfrey says, brows furrowing. “No one has in the western literature. Any potion or spell I usually use could be harming you. Be _reasonable_ , Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco’s expression becomes cold. “Madam Pomfrey. I have everything under control. And I trust that you keep patient confidentiality.”

Pomfrey glares at him. Draco doesn’t back down.

“Rest assured, Madam Pomfrey, it is _not_ your problem. If anything, my condition _speeds_ up my healing.”

“You’re not leaving this Hospital Wing early. Mr. Malfoy, your condition is beyond me.”

But he knows he has to give some leeway to Pomfrey. Someone he trusts with professional integrity...

“One person. Professor Flitwick. You can tell him.”

Pomfrey’s lips purse.

“And you can tell Professor McGongall.”

Pomfrey sighs. “Very well, Mr. Malfoy.” She dissipates the privacy charm and opens the curtains. “Get some rest.”

_Were-dragon_ , Draco scoffs. Better to let her believe that. He’s not offering her anymore information, especially when she’s not letting him leave.

He calls a house-elf to deliver him breakfast. It appears on his bedside table, along with a rolled up newspaper.

Draco scans over the front page news—speculations about Greyback’s movements and yet another rehash of the Greyback’s involvement with the Death Eaters during the war. On the human interest page though, there’s an article about Potter along with a grainy picture of them with Lovegood.

> _**POTTER SEEN CONSORTING WITH MALFOY SCION** _
> 
> **__** _Harry Potter, also known as the Boy Who Lived, has been seen consorting with Malfoy scion and Death Eater Draco Malfoy…._
> 
> _….sources suggest that Mr. Potter has been enchanted to the point that he will not listen to his friends’ plea to be examined by a Healer..._

Draco slowly folds up the newspaper.

*

Slytherin wins the first Quidditch match of the year against the Gryffindors, a match that Draco is forced to spend stuck in the Hospital Wing.

The Gryffindor team are sullen as they march into the Hospital Wing for Pomfrey to do an after-match check-up on them, glaring at Draco and the Slytherin team who are drifting over to him.

“It was rough there for a moment,” Vaisey Owler says, grinning widely. “But we _did_ it!”

Maybell Buckling, seeker, adds, “Must be because you weren’t there to stare at Potter’s arse.”

“ _Maybell Buckling_ ,” Draco says pointedly, but she grins unrepentantly.

“In fact,” she says in a loud whisper to Vaisey, “I think he’s gotten _worse_.”

“Just give me the play-by-play,” Draco says.

“Very well,” Evander Urquhart spells up a miniature Quidditch playing field and with the ‘help’ from his team members, goes through the match.

*

The day after the match, Pomfrey finally lets Draco go. Blaise accompanies him out, under strict orders from Pomfrey to look after him.

“Report,” Draco says once they exit.

Blaise’s charming smile disappears. “The Gryffindors think we cheated in the match yesterday. They’ve a petition to disqualify the Slytherin team.”

“We played by the rules _for once_.”

Blaise snorts. “McGonagall hasn’t honoured their petition yet. But they’re not protesting our _plays_ per-se. They’re arguing that you’ve put the team on dark magic enhancers.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “ _Me_.”

“Snape the second.”

“That’s entirely _wrong_.” Draco shudders. “And what is Potter doing in all this?”

“He hasn’t signed the petition,” Blaise says slowly. “Felicity saw him heading up to speak with McGonagall. She expressly reminded me to tell you.”

Draco rolls his eyes. Clearly Blaise and Pansy have gotten Felicity into their little conspiracy about him and Potter. Draco swiftly changes the topic to other matters in Slytherin House.

To his surprise, some of the Slytherins are waiting for him in the Commons. In particular, the younger years with their wide, worried eyes.

They look as though _someone_ has told them that Draco was close to death. Draco looks accusingly at Pansy and Blaise.

“They’re young,” Blaise says airily.

“I’m perfectly well,” Draco tells the Slytherin kids. “The rumours were much exaggerated, and you are all underestimating me if you think a fall in class will incapacitate me.”

“Nolan said that Ms. Parkinson said that you had a spinal injury,” Jamie says.

Nolan nods with a deep seriousness, jaw set stubborn.

“Spinal injuries are very dangerous,” Michelle follows. “What if you can never walk again?”

Draco crosses his arms, _clearly_ standing.

Michelle looks embarrassed.

“Now, now Draco,” Blaise whispers. “You know what to do. Be nice to them. Or _I’ll_ be nice to them.”

Draco bits back a growl at Blaise’s provocation. “Don’t underestimate me again, understood? Not even Harry Potter can take _me_ down.”

Then, he steps into the mixed group of Slytherins and gives them all a head pat, wiping away their worries one-by-one and replacing them with adoring eyes.

“Now get back to your homework, I will _not_ accept failing Slytherins,” Draco says sharply “If you have any troubles, come immediately to me.”

“Yes, sir!” The little Slytherins split back up into their year groups and quickly head to a table to sit down and do work.

Because they’re in the Commons, the older Slytherins were watching. Their inscrutable expressions alight on Draco. Draco glares back at them until they look away.

“This is all _your_ fault,” he tells Blaise. “Now where’s Aster? We need to talk about the badges…”

Blaise smiles mysteriously as he is wont to do. Draco ignores him out of long practice.

*

Harry stomps angrily back to the Gryffindor Tower.

“Eh, how did it go, mate?” Ron asks, not looking up from his chess match against himself.

“Examining students for enhancers is a good idea,” Hermione repeats again.

“That’s not the main problem!” Harry snaps. “Who goes around setting someone else’s bag on fire?! Malfoy didn’t seem fazed by it, but he’s a fucking prat anyway.”

“Did the Slytherins’—” Ron starts.

“It was a _Slytherin bag_ ,” Harry bursts out.

Multiple heads in the Gryffindor commons turn to him. Harry glares unrepentantly back at them all. Some of them look back at him sullenly.

“The War is _over!_ ” he tells them. “I’m so fucking disappointed that you Gryffindors can’t be mature about this! If you have an issue with something, take it up with McGonagall!”

_Flash!_

Harry’s gaze snaps to somewhere in the common room. “Who took that picture?”

“Calm down, Harry,” Hermione implores. “We weren’t here last year. _We_ weren’t personally affected by the actions of the Slytherins. Yes, fighting now is wrong, but getting angry isn’t going to solve it.”

“Then what will, Hermione? What fucking will?” Harry shakes her off. He thinks about heading up to his dorm room, but instead turns around back to the exit.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he says, and leaves for the Astronomy Tower.

*

When Draco and the other Slytherins approach the Great Hall for dinner, Granger and Weasley are standing outside, eyes scanning the incoming crowd.

_No Potter_.

Granger gives him a narrow-eyed look.

Draco raises an eyebrow in response. _It’s not my fault you lost him_.

Blaise, taking his guard-duty seriously, nudges Draco subtly. They enter the Great Hall. The eyes of the students immediately turn to them. Ignoring the common students, Draco and the others arrange the seating of the Slytherins.

They sit closer together than ever, their conversation in hushed tones. It’s a far cry from the victorious chatter whenever Slytherin won a quidditch match in the previous years.

“—They cheated!” a student shouts above the hubbub. “Even _muggles_ test athletes before matches!”

Chatter loudens. McGonagall’s eyes sweep over the school, her lips becoming increasingly thin.

A loud clap echoes through the hall. McGonagall stands, and her voice carries, loud and stern. “The staff and I will discuss whether we should implement compulsory testing of _all_ quidditch players. Until then, Slytherin’s victory holds.”

For a brief moment, the other students settle—until McGonagall says _Slytherin_ , and mutters rise once more—“ _The points should be taken away until we’re **sure** they didn’t cheat.”_

_“Slytherins, not cheating? When pink unicorns fly!”_

_“Why does Hogwarts **have** a House for evil students? They should be re-educated or expelled…”_

It uncomfortably reminds Draco of his own reaction to the word “muggle” and any vague mention of muggleborns. Cheaters who have to be either assimilated, or excluded from their world.

How the wand point turns.

He taps Blaise lightly. “We need to return,” he says lowly. The other students won’t do anything physical or _overtly_ magical under the eyes of the Professors. But it is better if they leave early, than wait for the other Houses to ambush them.

Blaise matches his grim look, and they pass the message down the Slytherin table to eat quicker.

_**BAM!** _

The doors bang open as Potter runs in, breath ragged.

Granger and Weasley rush after him, Granger telling him to _stop and think!_

In Potter’s hands is the _Sorting Hat_.

“Professor!” Potter shouts, relentlessly progressing towards the front of the Hall, and completely ignoring his friends.

“ **I demand a resorting**!”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resorting...the thing I mentioned in the summary...it’s finally here...XD
> 
> Also. We have such a tsundere Draco...it just happened, it’s not my fault!! 🙈🙈🙈
> 
> *
> 
> **Draco:** No one can defeat me! Not even the great Harry Potter! 💪💪🐉🐉
> 
> **Nolan** : 😍😍😍 Mr. Malfoy is the strongest!
> 
> **Jamie:** Undefeatable!
> 
> **Nolan** : The very best!
> 
> **Draco:** *gives them head pats*
> 
> **Nolan & Jamie**: QAQ too cool… 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
> 
> **The older Slytherins:** …
> 
> *
> 
> **Draco** : I'm the leader
> 
> **Blaise** : Yes, but I'm the shadow leader
> 
> **Pansy** : I'm the _**real**_ leader. I know all their secrets.
> 
> **Draco** : ...
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry:** I was worried about Malfoy too! Where’s my head pat? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
> 
> **Draco** : … if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you one
> 
> **Harry: 😳😳😳 * _blush*_**
> 
> **__**_Also_ in an alternate universe:
> 
> **Harry** : I can’t follow Malfoy after classes. *sad face*
> 
> **Ron:** Yeah, I don’t think Hermione’s gonna brew more polyjuice for you to pretend to be a Slytherin.
> 
> **Harry** :...Did you know I was almost sorted into Slytherin? *hand forms a fist* Malfoy will have to give me a head pat then! *runs off to the Headmistress’s office*
> 
> **Ron:** Bloody hell.


	10. Chapter 10

The Gryffindor table roars in protests. “You’re a Gryffindor, Harry!”

“You can’t!”

“The Slytherins must have poisoned him!”

Potter jumps onto the stage, holding the Sorting Hat up high. Heavy magically pressure whips around him, stirring a sharp wind through the Great Hall.

McGonagall rises from her seat. “Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?”

Potter’s eyes sweep across the Great Hall. For a moment, they rest on Draco.

Draco stares back.

“People change,” Potter says, voice carrying, but quiet enough that the Gryffindors _have_ to shut up to hear.

“Recently, I made a new friend. Someone who I hated when I was first sorted. But it has made me realise that the War hurt _everyone_. I hate Voldemort and what he stood for. But if we keep making _assumptions_ about people based on their blood—based on something they can’t control—then we’ll keep on making the same mistakes of the past. We’ll keep on hurting each other. Until what? Until there’s no magical Britain left?”

Draco’s stomach grows heavy, his chest tight and bittersweet.

“People change, so you can’t stop me,” Potter finishes, and resolutely sticks the Hat on his head.

“Ahhh, yes,” the Hat murmurs. “Well then Mr. Potter, let me see again.”

The Great Hall falls into silence.

Draco holds his breath. Potter’s recent behavior suggests he’ll be sorted into Hufflepuff, though perhaps he has hidden depths that will place him in Ravenclaw. Wouldn’t it be so ironic if Potter resorted into Gryffindor again?

The Sorting Hat opens its mouth. “I see.”

“ _ **SLYTHERIN!**_ ”

Potter smirks and throws the Hat at a stunned McGonagall.

Draco stares.

_What._

_The._

_Fuck._

_!!!_

A low murmur starts that builds and builds.

“Did he just…”

“I heard Slytherin. Did you…?”

“That’s impossible!”

“It doesn’t count! You can’t do that!”

“Sort again!”

“ _The Slytherins must have cursed the Hat!_ ”

Draco’s eyes snap away from Potter and to the dark looks from the other Houses. His eyes narrow. _They wouldn’t dare. Not yet._

Potter glares at the school, and taps a _Sonorus_ on himself so that his voice carries above the shouts of protest. “We _all_ have a bit of all the Houses inside of us! The _problem_ that caused the war in the first place was _hate_. _Ignorance_. Did we fight a War just to repeat it all over again? Who’s going to be _left?_ We are the future. And that future should be _unity_. Or did all of you completely ignore Professor McGonagall’s talk from the very start of the year? I’m in Slytherin now, so _get over it_!”

He gets down from the stage, only to be ambushed by Granger and Weasley. Both of them tug him hard, saying something that Draco can’t hear over the noise.

“I have to try,” Potter replies, voice still _sonorus’ed_. “Now, are you going to join me at the Slytherin table or not?”

Granger’s face darkens with annoyance and barely suppressed frustration. She points her wand at Potter and ends his _sonorus_ spell.

Potter retorts back at Granger, and looks directly at Draco as he makes his way towards them. Granger and Weasley are forced to follow.

All the Slytherins looking are looking at Draco.

It would be better for Potter if the Slytherins reject him. It would be better for Slytherin to reject him. Draco is keenly aware of how the media will spin this. It won’t be _do-gooders exist in Slytherin_. It’ll be _Slytherin corrupts Harry Potter_.

But the Sorting Hat has spoken.

Potter is now a Slytherin.

This cannot be refuted.

Even though the sheer _audacity_ to resort himself is very, very much Gryffindorish. _Potterish_.

“Shift aside,” Draco finally orders as Potter approaches the Slytherin table.

Felicity and some other seventh years sitting directly across him move down, with enough space for the Golden Trio. New tableware appears.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Potter says calmly. However, there’s a tightness in his smile.

“Take a seat, Harry, and welcome to Slytherin,” Draco says with a cool nod. “Your friends may also take a seat.”

“...Draco.” Potter’s nose scrunches up as he sits down.

Granger sits down with her lips pressed tightly together, while Weasley casts a suspicious look at the dishes on the table.

“What’s all _this_ ,” Weasley mutters. “Why is your food different?”

Blaise leans forward with a charming smile. “The house-elves”—Granger stiffens—“are lovely beings who cater to the tastes and requirements of the students. I’m sure you know that the management of the house-elves at Hogwarts is far different from the treatment of house-elves in private homes.”

“Yes,” Granger says stiffly.

The charmingness of Blaise’s smile increases. “However, I am very privileged to have you sitting here this evening, Ms. Granger. You see, I closely follow your articles published in the _Quibbler_ , and I feel that you must have more to say beyond the word-restricted page…”

Granger’s eyes go a bit starry, as most do under Blaise’s attention, even as she tries to maintain her suspicion. “I didn’t know you read it.”

“You write to the _Quibbler?_ ” Weasley asks.

“Yes,” Granger bites back, glaring at Weasley.

Blaise smiles in a conciliatory manner. “One of your previous articles that interested me was…”

And just like that, Blaise successfully engages Granger.

Meanwhile, Weasley’s suspicion of the dishes on the table hasn’t gone away. “That’s curry, right? I hope it’s not spicy, it looks spicy…”

“A moment, Weasley,” Draco says, suppressing down the mocking tone. He taps his wand on the table, requesting the house-elves to bring some dishes from the Gryffindor table for Weasley. The dishes appear a moment later: common foods like mashed potatoes and roast chicken.

“...Good,” Weasley says, clearly not wanting to thank Draco. He fills his plate and stuffs his mouth with food.

At least Potter is more ‘adventurous’ in his food choices.

“So,” Potter says, “Hagrid’s asking for you again. The thestrals _looove_ you.”

Draco looks at him, unimpressed, until Potter starts squirming.

“It’s true!” Potter protests.

“...Serve yourself some vegetables,” Draco says darkly instead. “How old are you to forget?”

“...You’re not my mum.”

“Well, he is now,” Blaise says with a grin.

“What do you mean by that?” Granger cuts in, frowning.

“Blaise is making a joke,” Draco says coldly.

Blaise nudges Draco in a friendly manner. “Draco is deluding himself. Harry, you’re going to have a good time in Slytherin with us.”

“About that—” Granger starts.

“I hope so,” Potter overrides. “This wasn’t out of the blue. I _meant_ the House unity. I want this to work. We should make friendships across House-lines.”

Granger’s lips tighten a fraction. “If that’s what you wanted, we could have done it a _different way_.”

Potter’s eyes go hard. “House affiliation is more flexible than people think. Everyone else should think twice.”

“We thank you for your consideration of us,” Blaise says smoothly. “I look forward to being able to hear more of your opinions, Hermione.”

“And eat and chew with your mouth shut,” Draco adds. “I don’t care about Weasley, but you, Harry, are now a Slytherin.”

Potter rolls his eyes. “Don’t stare at me so much then.”

Draco chokes as Blaise gives him a quick, knowing look.

*

Pansy and Felicity end up taking the rest of Slytherin back to the Dungeons first, while Draco and Blaise remain behind with the Golden Trio.

Professor Garren takes the opportunity to come over, inserting himself between Potter and Weasley.

“Mr. Potter,” Garren says genially. “I would say I’m overjoyed to have you in Slytherin if only it were more auspicious circumstances. How are you...faring?”

Potter smiles innocently. “It’s good. Draco and Blaise are nice.”

Garren’s smile tightens. “Professor McGonagall has given you permission to remain in the Gryffindor dormitories with your friends.”

“But as a Slytherin, I’m looking forward to seeing my _new_ space,” Potter says.

“We would be _honoured_ to help Harry adjust to Slytherin,” Blaise says. “I’m sure Hogwarts and the elves have already placed a new bed in the bedroom and moved Harry’s items.”

“Oh, thanks, Blaise!” Potter says.

Garren’s smile turns cool as he stands up. “Very well, sounds like you’re sorted, Mr. Potter. If there is anything you need, or any issues that arise, do not hesitate to speak to me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Potter says.

The moment Garren leaves, Weasley hisses, “You’re sleeping with _them_?!”

“The Slytherin Head Boy chambers are empty,” Draco says. “Potter can have them.”

“No, I want the proper Slytherin experience,” Potter insists.

Draco raises an eyebrow. “The _proper_ experience?” he drawls.

“You won’t want to leave,” Blaise says with a wink.

“ _Harry!”_ Weasley whines, while Granger has narrowed her eyes at Draco and Blaise.

Draco stands up. “Shall we?”

*

Harry gathers Hermione and Ron into a comforting hug—for them. “I’ll be fine,” he says confidently, tugging them along as he follows Malfoy and Zabini out of the Great Hall.

Outside, Malfoy and Zabini stand a distance away, giving him a little privacy. Their tall figures, straight postures, and their sleek and fitted robes...Malfoy and Zabini are very different from the people Harry knows in Gryffindor.

“Harry, House assignments are constructs _anyway_ ,” Hermione argues.

“So what?” Harry leans in closer, lowering his voice. “You have the map. You know where I’ll be. And I can send a patronus if anything goes wrong.”

“Isn’t this going a bit too far, mate?” Ron says.

“It’s better to take decisive action _now_ than wait for it to get worse,” Harry counters. He pats Hermione and Ron on the back and gives a big smile. “Hey and now you two can have a date without me interrupting you!”

While Hermione and Ron are being embarrassed, Harry takes the opportunity to detach from them. He grins as he trots up to Malfoy and Zabini.

“Ready?” Malfoy says, eyebrow going up.

“Heh, yes,” Harry falls into step between Malfoy and Zabini. His heart inexplicably thumps in his chest when Malfoy gives him a look.

It’s a thump of anticipation! Definitely.

Zabini takes up the mantle of conversation as they make their way down to the Slytherin Dungeons. At a familiar stretch of blank wall, Malfoy says the password, “ _Unity_ ,” causing the wall to open up.

“After you.”

Harry doesn’t pretend to be polite. He steps in first, eyes open as wide as possible.

The Slytherin Dungeons is very, very different from what Harry remembers.

Yes, there are green tones, and the large Slytherin banner. There’s still the ornate throne-like sofas and the large window facing the Great Lake.

But.

Even though Harry is bigger now than in Second Year, the Slytherin Common room looks _even more bigger_.

Higher ceilings, a new mezzanine floor, and the walls further apart. Harry never knew that rooms could grow like this in Hogwarts, aside from the Room of Requirement.

The mezzanine floor is lined with bookshelves and study areas that are even enticing to Harry.

Meanwhile, on the main floor, there are multiple fireplaces, each with their own surrounding sets of lounging sofas and coffee tables and lush rugs. There’s a _huge_ central fireplace too.

By the large window facing the Great Lake is padded seating, and a Slytherin student communicating via sign language with a small group of merpeople. On the other side of the Common are windows—clearly charmed ones, showing the night sky—and there are square tables and proper chairs where some Slytherins are seated, eating and chatting with relaxed smiles on their faces. There’s also a table with what looks enticingly like trays of biscuits under the slightest glimmer of a preservation charm.

The fires and the innumerable floating candles and _lumos_ lighting spheres cast a warm glow to the green decor. The decadent and ornate furnishings are softened invitingly by details like messy piles of books and board games on the table surfaces, and throw blankets and cushions on the sofas.

“Jamie Ottley, Michelle Nguyen,” Malfoy calls out.

Two small Slytherins quickly jump up from the sofas and walk over to them.

“I’m tasking you two to look after Mr. Potter. Give him a tour and make him feel welcome.”

“Call me Harry,” Harry quickly says. “Mr. Potter makes me sound like I’m in trouble.”

The young boy—Jamie—gives Harry a wide-eyed look. “O-okay,” he says, voice a little strangled.

...It turns out that there are people in Slytherin who are in awe of him too.

But Harry feels something soft when Malfoy pats Jamie on the head and Michelle on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, he won’t bite. If you have any trouble, bring him back to me. Potter, I’ll show you the Eighth Year bedroom later.”

Harry feels disappointed when Malfoy and Zabini leave him to go talk to some other Slytherins.

“Mr. Potter, we’ll show around,” Michelle says politely.

Harry gives her a quick smile. “Thanks.”

He tries not to be awkward when the other Slytherins all look at him, though none of them seem very surprised by his appearance. Harry is delighted to find that the table with the biscuits is a _snack table_. Ron would be _so_ jealous!

After the tour is finished, Malfoy comes back with a small tray of items and another small Slytherin following. The small Slytherin glares at Harry from behind Malfoy.

_Ah_ , that kind of hatred is more what Harry expects.

“Don’t mind Nolan,” Malfoy says dismissively as he leviates the tray between them. “These are some of the necessary items for Slytherins. This badge has an inbuilt shield charm that automatically activates. It will also communicate directly with Blaise, who is your assigned Eighth Year.”

“...Malfoy, I’m an Eighth Year too. Also. Badges? Really?” Harry picks up the Slytherin-S badge with amusement.

Malfoy smirks. “Aren’t you happy you _finally_ have a badge from myself? This vial is a pepper-up, and this is a general healing potion. And this is some high quality milk chocolate, as I assume your palate is not refined enough for dark chocolate. I also took the initiative to provide you with a hand-writing-assisting quill.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Thanks for insulting me, Malfoy.”

“Later, Blaise will suitably modify your robes. For now, Jamie, why don’t you play something with Potter?”

Harry’s bewildered by the whirlwind pace. A moment later, Harry is seated at one of the comfy sofas by one of the wall-side fireplaces surrounded by half a dozen second years and playing Exploding Snap.

“Since you’re new, I’ll let you go first,” Jamie says with utmost seriousness.

“...” Harry feels inexplicably guilty given how old and big he is compared to the second years.

Unfortunately, Malfoy is sitting on the throne sofa by the central fireplace and clearly has no intention of saving Harry at all!

*

Potter’s laughter soon mixes with the bright voices of the second year Slytherins.

Draco glances at Potter’s schedule, which he has obtained from Felicity, which she obtained from Potter-surveillance. Around him are the other Seventh Years.

“Can we _trust_ him though?” Evander Urqhurt says darkly.

“I’m _not_ putting him on highly sensitive guard duty,” Draco says, meeting the eyes of the Seventh Years. “Tell me your concerns.”

Evander crosses his arms. “How can you be sure Potter didn’t mess with the Sorting Hat? It’s been in McGonagall’s office, and we know he went to see her. This could be some plan they cooked up.”

William Harper has an even darker expression on his face. “Why the fuck did you let him into our house, Draco? _You_ , of all people! You and Blaise doing things without asking _us_.”

Draco straightens, giving William a cold look. “You weren’t complaining _before_. If we cannot trust the Sorting Hat, an ancient artifact belonging to the Founders, then House delimitations become useless. Shall I call for the demolition of the Houses?”

William scoffs.

“The Sorting Hat has spoken. Potter is here to stay until the Sorting Hat speaks again.” Draco smiles grimly. “Rather than Potter helping us, _he_ will become a target. We need to protect him, or our reputation as Slytherins is worthless.”

William makes a face at the mention of protecting Potter. “Potter’s not some first year.”

“He isn’t.” Draco smiles deceptively, making William shift uncomfortably. “But we can easily choose a new leader. You choose the arbiter, and we’ll duel.”

“Forget it,” William scowls.

Draco continues to smile coldly. “Are you sure?”

William glares.

“I don’t care if you never talk to Potter. _I_ will keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, leave it to Draco, we all know how much he likes looking at Potter,” Felicity says, smirking.

Draco shoots Felicity a disgruntled look. “You were the one to determine Potter’s schedule.”

“Yes, on your orders,” Felicity says sweetly.

Draco annoyingly cannot refute that.

*

Harry groans as Jamie wins the latest round of Exploding Snap.

Jamie jumps up. “Yay!”

“Can we stop playing now?” one of the second year girls grumbles.

“We should finish our assignments,” Michelle agrees, nodding.

Jamie pouts. “Okay, okay.”

“Ah, perfect, you’ve all finished. Potter, we’re starting our NEWTs study now,” Malfoy’s voice comes from behind him.

Harry’s eyes widen in mild panic. “ _Study?_ ”

“Go on,” Malfoy tells the second years, nudging them along. “Now, Potter.”

Harry nearly jumps when Malfoy touches his back to push him. They walk to a part of the mezzanine study floor where the seventh years and eighth years have gathered. The seventh years ignore him. Parkinson gives him a quick smirk that Harry doesn’t understand.

Zabini hands Harry his bag. “The house-elves sent it over, I assume it still contains the work from today.”

“...Yeah…”

“As a new Slytherin, I need to make sure your academic skills meet my standards,” Malfoy says self-importantly. He leads Harry to a table a little away from other students and casts a light muffling charm around them.

Harry sits down glumly next to Malfoy.

He should have stayed in Gryffindor! Harry glances across the Slytherin Commons to where the second years are studying diligently. They’re not going to help him escape from Malfoy at all!

...

...okay, Harry grudgingly admits. It’s not _too_ bad.

The Slytherin Commons is quieter than the rowdy Gryffindor Commons. With the crackling of the fires and the rustle of turning pages, and Malfoy dragging him through the assigned work, Harry ends up actually completing his homework.

*

Harry should not be surprised about what the Slytherin Eighth Year dorm looks like after seeing the extravagant Slytherin Commons.

There are personal _desks_ in the room. There are personal _wardrobes_ and _bookshelves_. There are _two_ bathrooms.

“This is your desk, wardrobe and bed,” Zabini says, leading Harry to one side. Harry’s familiar trunk sits at the foot of a green-and-silver four poster bed.

“Wait...” Harry looks between his bed, and the only one (1) other bed in the room. “Why are there only _two_ beds? Why is your bed so big?”

Zabini sits on the extremely large bed, tilting his head. “This is our bed,” he says, his voice a little deep and meaningful.

Harry gulps and steps back towards his own bed. After testing the springiness of the mattress, Harry’s happy to find that it feels just like his own bed. It even smells right, too.

When he looks back up, Zabini is stripping.

Robes gone, shirt gone, trousers gone.

Harry’s mouth dries, eyes wide as Zabini’s smooth dark skin emerges, glowing under the warm lights. He’s glad that Zabini isn’t looking Harry’s way, but it’s a small mercy.

When Harry’s finally able to look away, his eyes land on Malfoy instead.

Malfoy, who is _also stripping_.

There is Malfoy’s chest that Harry had only been able to catch glimpses of in the Forbidden Forest and in the Hospital Wing... The curve of Malfoy’s muscles aren’t as well defined as Zabini’s, but...

Nothing makes sense! Harry has been perfectly fine with the other Gryffindor boys stripping in their dorm room back in Gryffindor Tower.

Nothing! Makes! Sense!

“Are you going to use the bathroom?” Malfoy asks.

Harry’s ears are hot. “Yes. Yes!” He grabs his toiletries and hurries into a bathroom, brain too fried to think about why Parkinson just exited one of them (because there are _two_ bathrooms!).

By the time Harry exits the bathroom, he is absolutely determined to act as though everything is normal.

“Get in here, Draco,” Parkinson says.

_What?!!_

Parkinson is lying in the other bed. _Malfoy_ is getting into bed with her. Parkinson wraps herself around Malfoy.

“Hmm, warm,” she says, her eyes looking right at Harry through her lashes, her head resting on Malfoy’s chest.

Harry’s jaw tightens. His stomach drops. _This...what is this?_

“You two...You’re together?”

“No,” Malfoy says with a deep, exasperated sigh. “We merely have an agreement.”

“ _Agreement?_ ”

Zabini comes out from the bathroom and gets into the bed too. “Pansy, don’t hoard him!” he says, pulling Malfoy partially away from Parkinson’s grip.

“Don’t be rough, Blaise!” Parkinson snarks back. “Draco was injured just two _days_ ago!”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Malfoy! I didn’t even ask. Are you okay?”

“I’m _perfectly_ healed,” Malfoy retorts, “Or Pomfrey would chain me to the bed before letting me leave.”

“ _Oooh_ ,” Parkinson says, wriggling her eyebrows.

“Stop it dear, we have company,” Malfoy says back. “Is there anything else you want, Potter?”

What can Harry say, when faced with the scene of Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini all wrapped up together like that? While Harry is the only one sleeping alone...

“Er, no, I’m good.” Harry burrows into his bed.

“Hmm,” Parkinson says. “I don’t mind if you _join us_.”

“Nope!” Harry buries his head under his blankets. “Night, fellow Slytherins.”

Parkinson laughs. “Your loss,” she says. “Sweet dreams, everyone. _Nox._ ”

Darkness descends.

Harry curls up tight in his bed. In the quiet, Harry’s alone in his thoughts.

His bed is familiar, but the sounds are not. Even the air smells different. Instead of the clatter and snores of his friends in Gryffindor, there’s the quiet breaths of Parkinson, Malfoy, and Zabini.

Ron isn’t in the next bed over if Harry needs anything. They can’t chat into the night about everything and anything.

After seeing how good Malfoy’s relationship is with his two friends, a small bitter regret grows in Harry’s heart. Why did he re-sort himself? Malfoy clearly doesn’t need another friend…

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could also be called: Harry’s first ~~time~~ night in Slytherin lol.
> 
> *
> 
> **Draco** : Everyone, this is our new Slytherin, Harry Potter!
> 
> **Harry** : Hello!
> 
> **Nolan** : *grips the back of Draco’s robes and glares* GO AWAY!
> 
> **Draco** : *pats Nolan on the head* There, there.
> 
> **Nolan** : 🥺🥺🥺🥺 
> 
> **Nolan:** *glares at Harry again when Draco’s not looking*
> 
> **Harry:** ...
> 
> *  
> 
> 
> **Draco and Blaise undressing.**
> 
> **Draco** : *thinking: Potter’s seen me half-naked already anyway*
> 
> **Blaise:** *smirking, because messing around with Harry is amusing*
> 
> **Harry:** *nosebleed*
> 
> _Harry.exe has stopped working_
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry:** *carefully taking notes of how the younger Slytherins get head pats: listening to Draco. Not listening to Draco. Acting spoiled. Pleading eyes*
> 
> **Harry:** *carefully closes his diary* (⚈ ̫ ⚈) 😇
> 
> **Draco, somewhere else** : *sneezes* who the fuck is speaking ill of me? It’s Potter again, isn’t it?
> 
> oh yeah, also find me on [tumblr~](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter 11

The staircase has been fixed by the time Pansy and Felicity head there early Monday morning before the other students stir. Pansy has had to leave the warmth of Draco’s side, with all three Slytherin boys still sleeping.

With Felicity on surveillance, Pansy affixes a scenery portrait on the wall. Inside the portrait is a pensieve.

Along the staircase walls are portraits. The portraits see many, many students and staff walk past them, completely ignoring them aside from the occasional curious first year. They are very helpful when Pansy talks to them.

Pansy unfortunately cannot examine the painted pensieve herself, but after questioning, and having some of the portraits describe the students who lingered around the area, Pansy narrows in. 

Two certain students dressed in black muggle clothing came to the staircase on Friday, and left behind an unknown device that caused a magical ripple that some of the portraits could detect.

The details are not much and would be insufficient for anyone else.

But Pansy has kept a record of the students who like to dress up as Aegis.

*

Potter is subdued in the morning, his greeting a little forced. He stands quietly as Blaise adjusts his robes, changing the Gryffindor colours and emblem to Slytherin’s and tailoring it to fit better to Potter’s frame.

Draco is about to leave Blaise to speak with Potter, but Blaise grabs Draco’s arm and pulls him close.

“He wants you,” Blaise whispers.

Draco gives him a disbelieving look. “He wants his friends,” he snorts.

He ends up taking Potter with the first group of Slytherins to leave for breakfast. Outside the Great Hall, Granger and Weasley are waiting.

“Now have breakfast with your sidekicks,” Draco says, nudging Potter.

“But—”

“You’re now a Slytherin. Eating with them would constitute House unity, will it not?”

Potter brightens a little. “ _If_ you insist…”

“I insist.”

Granger and Weasley may poison Potter’s ears against Draco, but he can trust them to keep Potter safe. And anyway, Draco can easily keep an eye on Potter from the Slytherin table.

“ _Hey, Harry’s sitting at the Gryffindor table again!”_

_“Yes!”_

_“He’s back to Gryffindor!”_

_“Wait. But he has the Slytherin robes!”_

_“What the fuck?”_

Draco ignores them in favour of greeting Pansy when she arrives with a contingent of Slytherins.

Then, the morning delivery owls arrive.

The papers have headlines like, _**SLYTHERIN HOUSE STEALS HARRY POTTER**_ and _**HARRY POTTER, BLACKMAILED?**_

But Draco hardly needs to read them when the bright red Howlers explode.

“ _YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE A SLYTHERIN, HARRY POTTER!”_

“ _DRACO MALFOY, YOU BASTARD! THE AURORS ARE COMING FOR YOU!”_

Draco immediately stands up and draws his wand. “ _Incendio! Incendio!_ ” White hot flames incinerate the Howlers into dust.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Granger is casting, “ _Evanesco!_ ”

Then, McGonagall stands up with a dark expression on her face. With a series of unintelligible words and sweeps of her wand, all of the incoming owls are pushed back and out of the Great Hall.

Draco sits down and returns to his morning croissant.

*

“Harry, we’re leaving.”

Harry’s heart jumps in shock when Zabini’s voice comes out from his Slytherin badge. Harry immediately looks over to the Slytherin table, where indeed, the other Slytherin students are finishing up.

He quickly stuffs the last of his food into his mouth and gets up, much to Hermione’s and Ron’s confusion.

“We have Potions next together,” Hermione says, displeased. “Where are you going?”

“I...with them. I’ll see you in Potions, okay?” Harry ducks his head guiltily and hurries up to join in with the Slytherin group departing the Great Hall.

Rather than heading down to the Potions classroom though, Malfoy turns towards Middle courtyard. Felicity Shafiq and Pansy Parkison are at the front of the group of first years, while Harry and Malfoy bring up the rear.

“...Where are we going?” Harry whispers to Malfoy.

“Taking the first years to Transfiguration.”

“Oh.”

Nothing out of the ordinary happens as the group moves through Hogwarts Castle. They wait quietly until the transfiguration professor arrives, and only then do Harry and the others head down to Potions.

 _So_ this _is why they’re never early to class despite leaving first..._

Harry glances secretly at Malfoy, but Malfoy looks straight ahead, eyes scanning the corridor in front of them.

*

During the day time, when Professors are in their classrooms and most students are studying, Minerva McGonagall returns to the staircase where Aster Grace had fallen.

Although she fixed the spellwork last night, she checks them again. _Still working_.

Suppressing a sigh, Minerva lifts her chin and addresses one of the senior portraits at the top of the stairwell, a distinguished witch from Hogworts’ alumni.

“Ah, my, I’m feeling popular today,” the portrait-witch says, half-self-deprecatingly.

“How so?”

“Why, two students came and talked to us on a very similar topic just this morning! They were quite interested in certain descriptions, would you like to listen too?”

“If you may.”

 _Students dressed in black muggle clothing_.

After probing some more, Minerva thanks the witch in the portrait.

Although she had found the magical device that _caused_ the staircases’ anti-trip spell to malfunction, the magical traces on it are too faint. 

There is only enough to know that it was something made outside of Hogwarts. The device’s spellwork was too fine for a student. If it had roughly destroyed the spells on the staircases, Minerva _would have known_. But instead, it didn’t activate until Aster Grace had the unfortunate luck to step down the stairs.

But as to who bought it in...the information she has gathered is still not enough. There are many students who wear muggle clothing.

*

Immediately after Potions ends, Pansy gives Draco a nod, and she and Felicity head to the Hogwarts Library.

During the second morning period, Fifth Year Ravenclaws have a free study hour.

This is where Pansy finds the two culprits.

Felicity deftly casts a privacy charm around them as Pansy strolls up to their table and plants her hand down.

“Good day, you bastards,” she says pleasantly.

The two Ravenclaws flinch back in shock. One of them is tall. The other is short. _This_ is one of the key defining features that allowed Pansy to figure them out, along with the fact that they had a convenient study period when Aster fell.

“Who are you? Go away, we’re studying!” Tall Ravenclaw hisses.

“Talk as loud as you want, Pince won’t hear,” Pansy says.

Both Ravenclaws turn their heads towards where Madam Pince would be on the other side of the bookshelves. But there is no sound of reprimand. Felicity’s wards are top notch.

“...What do you want?”

“Waiting for your little Friday morning confession,” Pansy drawls. “Who knew you two Ravenclaws were budding murderers. Unfortunately, you don’t know how to get away with it.”

The tall Ravenclaw goes red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I already know,” Pansy says. “But what I want to know is _how_.”

“How what?!”

Pansy stares him down. “I suppose I should tell your friend that you cheated on last month’s Transfiguration exam?”

“You did what?” the short Ravenclaw bursts out.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s fucking lying!” the tall Ravenclaw denies.

Pansy smirks, and turns to the short Ravenclaw. “And you’re not going to tell me either? Then I suppose I should tell your friend about your secret _lover_.”

“You—”

Pansy yawns. “This is boring. Look at me.”

The two Ravenclaws reflexively look at her.

“ _Legilimency_.”

Pansy is one of the best at Legilimency. After all, there’s a reason why she knows all the gossip.

And importantly, unlike Veritaserum, the use of Legilimency is far less regulated.

Pansy dives into the mind of the tall Ravenclaw, who has the least resistance. The information she’s looking for comes up almost immediately—after mentioning it, the other student automatically started thinking about.

Pansy sees the two of them receiving letters.

_We are a group of people working towards a better Britain. We believe you are with us._

She sees them receiving a package. Inside are little magical trinkets. Inside are black masks.

She sees them receiving another package and instructions.

 _This device will analyse and determine who are the biggest threats to Britain. By striking early, we can prevent another war from emerging_.

She sees them tuck the device at the top of the staircase. She sees how the device merges into the wall and spellwork.

Pansy coldly withdraws.

The short Ravenclaw stares between her friend and Pansy in horror. “What did you just do?! I’m going to tell Professor McGonagall! That was illegal!”

Pansy’s lips smile. Her eyes do not. “Go on. Tell her. And I’ll tell her about your sabotage with intent to kill Aster.”

The tall Ravenclaw recovers with a red face. “We never intended to kill anyone! If you...if you looked through my mind properly, you would know that! It was meant to be fairly harmless! We didn’t know it was going to be that bad.” 

“And Malfoy and that other Slytherin are fine anyway,” the short Ravenclaw says.

Pansy sneers. “Unfortunately, we do not have the market covered on murderers.”

The privacy charm around them suddenly drops. Pansy smoothly re-arranges her face and steps back towards Felicity.

Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley walk by, hand in hand, carrying books with their free arms.

Pansy smiles pleasantly. She meets Felicity’s eyes and they leave.

Behind them, Ginny looks at Pansy Parkinson with suspicion. But Luna is looking at the two Ravenclaws with sadness.

*

After Harry’s last class, McGonagall is waiting outside for him.

Giving Ron and Hermione a helpless look, Harry follows McGonagall into an empty classroom.

“Take a seat, I won’t take up too much of your time,” McGonagall says.

Harry takes a seat a little guiltily.

“Firstly, how did you take the Sorting Hat?”

...This was exactly what Harry’s afraid she would ask. “I still remember your password when I talked to you last week…?”

McGonagall’s serious face doesn’t change.

“...And I asked one of the house-elves to help me.”

McGonagall pinches the bridge of her nose. “I see. Your resorting was a very reckless action. Are you _sure_ you don’t want to move back into Gryffindor? Or take up _dual_ House-ship?”

Harry perks up at the idea of dual House-ship. But if he says yes immediately...it’ll look like he’s flaky. “I’ll consider it,” he finally says.

McGonagall goes on to ask him about how he’s doing, and Harry answers her truthfully. The Slytherins have been treating him well. He even shows her the milk chocolate bar Malfoy gave him. It’s his favourite flavour.

“...Professor? Can I ask _you_ a question?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know who attacked Malfoy last time, a few weeks ago? And who messed up the stairs? Was it the same people?”

“I don’t know,” McGonagall says heavily. “The earlier incident happened in a blind spot. The portraits by the Kitchens are all still-lifes of food, not sentient portraits. As for the stairs...it is unclear.”

Harry deflates. “Okay.”

*

Meanwhile, Pansy is telling Draco and Blaise her findings. Neither are surprised.

“We’ll simply have to deal with Aegis too,” Draco says.

Pansy’s eyes glint sharply. “Of course.”

*

In the evening, Draco takes Potter with him to Snape’s old office and the potions laboratory. Aster is already there, and Draco assists them on brewing Wolfsbane. Neither of them tell Potter what they’re brewing. Draco easily side-tracks Potter by making him re-brew a potion they recently did in class, but now _by himself._

“B-but—”

“The final NEWTs Potions brewing is done _individually_ ,” Draco says, resisting the urge to rap on Potter’s head.

“...” Potter slumps and glumly opens his potions text.

By the time the Wolfsbane is finished, a number of other Slytherin students have arrived to use the Potions laboratory. Sticky Potter won’t hear of remaining to continue practicing his potion, instead following Draco and Aster back to the Slytherin Commons. Aster discreetly sends off tonight’s vials of Wolfsbane (though it’s no secret which Slytherin is a werewolf—disappearing every full moon is rather obvious).

“Now stay here,” Draco tells Potter sternly, pushing down to a sofa by the central fireplace. “You can play with the other students for a while. If you want to play some more with your Gryffindor friends, that can also be arranged.”

Potter’s lips turn down. “But where are _you_ going?”

“Aster and I will be going to the Hospital Wing. For our daily _checkup_ , despite the fact that we’re both perfectly healthy.”

“But...it’s better to have more people accompany you, right?” Potter looks up at Draco from his seated position, green eyes wide and pleading.

“Don’t be disobedient!” a young voice says. It’s not Draco. It’s Nolan, who’s walking up to them whilst scowling at Potter. Behind him are Jamie and Michelle.

Draco approves of Nolan’s tone. He pats Nolan on the head.

“We were going to ask Mr. Potter to play again,” Jamie says. “We have some new games, want to try them out with us?”

Potter’s eyes move from Draco’s hand on Nolan’s head to Jamie’s innocent face. “I…”

“Lovely,” Draco says decisively. “I’ll be going with Aster now. Nolan, don’t antagonise Potter _too_ much, alright?”

Nolan nods obediently.

With that sorted, Draco can finally head to the Hospital Wing with Aster.

Madam Pomfrey is impatiently waiting. She checks over Aster first, making Aster sit down on a free bed and casting various spells. She finally prescribes them with a nutrient potion.

Then she turns to Draco, tells Aster to wait, and drags Draco into her office.

“The full moon is approaching. Have you been taking Wolfsbane?” Pomfrey immediately questions. Draco knows that she knows that Draco brews Wolfsbane. Worry furrows her brows. “Wolfsbane should not be suitable for a were-dragon. However, there is no published equivalent of dragonsbane potion. How have you managed?”

“I retain my mental capabilities when I transform. Perhaps dragons are naturally intelligent.”

Pomfrey is unimpressed. “Mr Malfoy, this is very important.”

“Madam Pomfrey, I have managed for multiple full moons before.”

“...Those earlier full moons. Did you loop _back_ to the Forest after?”

It was only the recent third full moon that Draco had insisted on staying back.

Draco remains silent, all the better for Pomfrey to develop her own misconception.

Pomfrey’s lips purse. With sharp jabby movements, she casts the diagnostic spells on Draco. “Still running a high temperature,” she mutters. Her sharp eyes flick up to Draco. “The were-dragon is bleeding into your daily life.”

“Is that not normal?”

At Pomfrey’s annoyed look, Draco gives a lazy half smile. “Rest assured, I can deal with this myself. There are no problems.”

“Your wounds are as magically healed as they appeared,” Pomfrey finally says. She also gives him a nutrient potion and ushers him out of her office.

“If you need anything, you _know_ I am here,” she says, looking at both Draco and Aster. “Come by again tomorrow, earlier if you please.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Aster says. The two of them leave the Hospital Wing before Aster gives Draco a curious look. “What did she say to you in her office?”

“Private matters.”

Aster raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Ah, I see. Alright, I won’t say a word.”

Draco: “..."

*

Somehow, life in Slytherin isn’t nearly as dramatic as Harry thought it would be.

After Monday, the Great Hall no longer accepts any howlers. Yes, the papers are still speculating on Harry’s resort. And yes, Harry has gotten benign fan letters asking him _why_ (all the bad fan letters are sorted out). But Harry has gotten better at ignoring what they say.

The most annoying are the students who plead him to visit Madam Pomfrey for a mental check up. At first, Harry smiles nicely at the students who come up to him. It doesn’t last long.

No doubt the papers will go on about him not smiling too, but when has Harry ever _cared_?

Aside from that, Harry still has most of his meals with Ron and Hermione, and sits next to them in most of his classes. He follows Malfoy and Blaise between classes, accompanying the younger students sometimes.

(And Blaise and a random Slytherin accompanies _Harry_ to class once for some reason.)

He goes back to Slytherin in the evening, and gets sucked into playing with the other Slytherins. Then he’s forced to study by the annoyingly domineering Malfoy. A _lot_ of study, because all the assessments due before the Yule break are being given out, and the Slytherins seem to not believe in the Homework Method called Doing It Last Minute.

Harry suspects that everyone is buried under too much homework to even _think_ about being nasty to each other.

*

The night of the full moon is Thursday, December 3rd. After making sure Potter is safely under Blaise’s eye, Draco leaves with Slytherin werewolf students.

The air is cold, and Draco’s warm breath condenses into visible water vapour. It looks like he’s exhaling white smoke.

After the other students scatter head into the Forbidden Forest, Madam Pomfrey looks meaningfully at Draco again.

...Draco feels a tiny bit of guilt. 

“I can control myself,” he tells her. “I do not need your worry.”

“That’s what makes me worry more,” Pomfrey mutters. “But if you want to keep your secrets for now...how can I ever pry them out?” With a snort, Pomfrey leaves.

Draco heads directly into the Forest.

The transformation feels more like a slightly painful, but ultimately luxurious stretch. 

His sense of the surrounding world sharpens, picking out the sounds of other creatures scurrying about. With a powerful jump, he pierces through the Forest canopy.

Above, the clouds are dark, the moonlight a dim glow, the Forest a deep green. Draco’s scales shine faintly, and not long after, some dark creatures fly over.

Draco greets the thestrals with a rumble, swooping around them. The little thestrals detach from the herd, neighing happily.

 _Look, look!_ they seem to be saying as they swoop and swirl and loop-de-loop, just like how he showed them previously.

One daft thestral tries to loop-de-loop around Draco’s tail. What happens is a mess of thestral and dragon wings, forcing Draco to hastily nudge the thestral upright. There’s a disapproving _neigh_ from the thestral leader.

More little thestrals get _ideas_ about flying around Draco. With a toss of his head, Draco beats his wings hard, rising up into the air and pulling ahead, heading deeper over the Forest. He soars, pale wings luminous.

Draco ends up with a trail of little thestrals flying behind him, and the bigger thestrals exasperatedly following after.

By the time they return to the thestral glade, _Draco_ is the one who’s all tired out. He deigns to allow some of the still spritely thestrals to jump over his tail while he carefully listens to the night.

He can hear the howl of wolves. There is no scent of Potter.

With an exhale, Draco transforms back into his human form and summons his clothes.

“Don’t follow me, go to sleep now,” Draco admonishes, nudging back one of the thestrals who has trailed Draco to the edge of the glade. “Look at your leader. She wants to murder me if I dare take you with me.”

The little thestral makes sad whuffling sounds.

“No, no, I’m not going to fall for it.” Draco pats it. The little thestrals have all grown a little bigger. “I’ll feed you breakfast some day, yes? Lots and lots of meat.” Draco accompanies the little thestral back to its herd.

Draco cannot stay...because he has his own herd to look after.

*

Something flickers silver above the canopy of the trees. Nolan, in his wolven form, looks up, but looks away again.

 _Where is Mr Malfoy? Where is Mr Malfoy?_ Mr Malfoy’s scent is here...then gone! Did he apparate?

A low whine of despair builds in Nolan’s throat. Dejected, he sniffs around the area one more time, and then folds his legs, laying down on that spot.

His ears flick back and forth, picking up the sounds of the Forest. There are the other werewolves...he doesn’t want to play with them though.

...It’s all his father’s fault! Causing Nolan to turn into a werewolf like this! Does his father know how painful the transformation is? Does his father know how disgusting Wolfsbane is?

“Ah, there you are.”

….!!!

Nolan’s ears flick up. Sounds of footsteps across the crackly ground. Nolan jumps into his four legs. 

“ _A-rooaw?_ ”

Nolan’s hackles raise as he feels something big coming towards him. Then, the features and scent resolves into Mr Draco Malfoy!

“ _A-woo!_ ”

Nolan dashes towards Mr Malfoy. Then quickly comes to a stop a handspan away, when his human side remembers propriety.

Mr Malfoy leans down and firmly pats him on the head. “I hope you haven’t been naughty.”

“Ruff!” Nolan protests, pressing his head into Mr Malfoy’s toasty-warm hand and familiar wood-fire-smokey scent.

“Here is as good a place as any,” Mr Malfoy is saying. He draws his wand, and suddenly small squares from his pocket becomes large fluffy quilts and an abundance of cushions.

Nolan places one hesitant paw on the quilts laid over the ground. When Mr Malfoy doesn’t reprimand him, he puts another paw, then another, until he’s standing on fluffy white.

Mr. Malfoy takes off his boots and sits down right at the center, back supported by cushions and legs stretched out. “What are you waiting for?”

“A-wooo!!” Nolan howls happily. He trots over to Mr Malfoy and flops right over Mr Malfoy’s super warm lap. A low rumble purr builds in his chest as Mr Malfoy scratches his ears and head and fur.

He ignores Mr Malfoy’s mutter of, “ _This is so peculiar. Don’t tell Blaise about this, understood?_ ”

Not long after, two other wolves come by—the darker-furred wolf being that fifth year Martin Gamp and the lighter-furred wolf being the fourth year Mesa Wattle.

The sense of pressure and big-large-creature from Mr Malfoy becomes more heavy. But rather than being oppressive, Nolan finds it comforting. With Mr Malfoy here, there’s nothing to be afraid of!

So much better than his damned father…

Mr Malfoy’s fingers scratch under Nolan’s chin. With a low rumble, Nolan rolls onto his back. It would normally be too cold to do that, but the air around Mr Malfoy is pleasantly warm and cozy.

Wolf Martin and wolf-Mesa, after seeing Nolan presenting his stomach to Mr Malfoy, finally trot over.

“Tired yet?” Mr Malfoy says.

Martin and Mesa answer in a light bark, which Mr Malfoy seems to magically understand.

“You can rest here until you have the urge to run again.”

...Nolan grumbles as Martin and Mesa flop half on top of him. He rolls back into his stomach and snuggles up the closest to Mr Malfoy.

“ _Growl_ ,” Martin says, meaning _Stop being so territorial_.

 _I was here first_ , Nolan growls back.

 _Hmm, warm_ , Mesa rumbles.

They remain like that for an unknown amount of time, with Nolan lightly dozing in the warmth and softness under the arms of Mr Malfoy. It’s the first time Nolan truly doesn’t mind his wolf form, because a small part of him suspects Mr Malfoy would never allow this if they were in human form.

It’s nice.

_But then Nolan smells someone he hates!_

Nolan tenses, eyes snapping open. He presses against Mr Malfoy and stares out into the Forest, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

As that Harry Potter steps out.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disjointed scenes—let's call them episodic. Rustic. Very Good. 😅😅
> 
> **McGonagall:** I have no idea who sabotaged the staircase. Who could it be??
> 
> Meanwhile, Pansy is blackmailing the students who sabotaged the staircase.
> 
>  **Also Pansy:** 🔪🔪🔪
> 
> **Harry:** Now that I'm a Slytherin, I'm going to follow Malfoy everywhere!
> 
>  **Harry:** *gets babysat by the little Slytherins*
> 
>  **Harry:** *gets babysat by Blaise*
> 
>  **Harry:** *is forced to do schoolwork*
> 
>  **Harry:** ....this is not what I expected.
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
>  **Harry:** *listens to Draco, argues with Draco, tries big cute green eyes at Draco*
> 
>  **Nolan:** You suck, Mr. Potter!
> 
>  **Draco:** Very good, Nolan *pats Nolan*
> 
>  **Nolan:** 😇
> 
>  **Harry:** QAQ 😭 why does Nolan get a head pat and not me?????
> 
> **Nolan** , taking to Jamie: How can you play with Potter???!!
> 
>  **Jamie** : Harry Potter sucks at Exploding Snap. It’s super fun to play with him!
> 
>  **Harry** :.... *cry*
> 
> **Ron** : So...how is...your...thing...with Malfoy going?
> 
>  **Harry:** *looks away*
> 
>  **Ron** : ...sorry… *pats him on the shoulder*
> 
>  **Harry** : _Shoulder pats are not the same!!!_
> 
> Trivia: It took me over five hours to write/edit this! If you find mistakes, please tell me 😭😭


	12. Chapter 12

“ _Growl!_ ”

Harry sees _them_ and freezes. The _Lumos_ on his wand flickers. He’s been wandering the Forest, trying to make his way to the thestral glade. He did _not_ expect to find Malfoy here.

Malfoy is sitting on the ground on top of a nest of blankets and cushions. His pale face and white hair glows in the darkness. There are three wolves crowding him. One of them is growling and baring its sharp teeth at Harry. The two other wolves are looking at Harry too, their eyes bright and calculating.

Harry’s knees weaken. _W-w-werewolves! What the heck is Malfoy doing???_

Malfoy...pats the menacing werewolf.

… _!!!! What have I stepped into? Was Malfoy’s naked rituals in the Forest for...this??_

Malfoy presses a hand on the growling werewolf’s head, drawing them close. “Potter, do you know the date?”

“...Is it Friday?”

“It’s Thursday _and_ a full moon night, Potter.”

Harry takes a tiny step closer, looking warily between werewolves. “Do _you_ know it’s a full moon?”

“Yes.” Malfoy strokes the werewolf, quietening the threatening growls.

_Wait a minute..._

The werewolves _like_ Malfoy? If Harry unfocuses his eyes a little, and pretends he can’t hear the growling, then it looks as though Malfoy is buried under a pile of fluffy dogs.

It’s...cute.

And if Malfoy isn’t scared, then why should Harry be scared?

“Can I sit?”

Harry’s about to sit anyway when the smallest werewolf glares at Harry in a very familiar way. “...Nolan?”

Malfoy has a faint smile. “Indeed.”

“One of my father’s best friends was a werewolf,” Harry says. “They all learnt to be animagi to keep him company.” The pile of Malfoy and wolves and blankets and cushions looks a lot more cosy than the Shrieking Shack.

One of the lighter-furred werewolves gets to their feet.

“Do you...want to play ball?” Harry hazards.

The wolf...rolls their eyes as they stretch out their limbs.

“...Or how about food? I learnt a trick from Ron to summon food from the Kitchens! I don’t know if it would work this far away, but I can try.”

Three sets of wolf eyes trained on him as though _he’s_ the piece of meat. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Harry detaches the _lumos_ charm into a _lumos_ sphere, and casts the spell, forcing in a bit more energy and force into it than usual.

A large tray of raw beef appears. Harry’s about to mentally apologise to the house-elves when a house-elf appears in front of them.

The house-elf opens her mouth to speak. Then her eyes widen as she takes in her location. She starts to shake a little.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry quickly says, “I wanted to feed the students, and I’m also a bit hungry now…”

“Dilly, is it,” Malfoy says smoothly. “Would it be too difficult to arrange a midnight feast for us, suitable for the wolven forms of my Slytherins?”

Returning to herself, Dilly quickly shakes her head. “No, no, not too difficult!” Dilly says. “Dilly will arrange immediately!”

“I will ask Blaise to compensate.”

“No, no!” Dilly looks more horrified now than when she first saw the wolves. “Dilly is feeding students, no compensation!” She disappears with a quiet _crack_.

Not long after, along with the tray of meat Harry originally summoned, there are trays of other types of meat, berries, bowls of water, and an assortment of savoury and sweet pies suitable for humans.

The wolves jump over and eat. Harry sneakily takes the opportunity to sit down next to Malfoy on the blankets.

“ _Your_ stomach is grumbling,” Malfoy says. “Why don’t you eat?”

“...You heard that?”

Malfoy serves Harry a slice of meat pie, much to Harry’s chagrin.

After the wolves finish, the two big ones go for a run. The smaller one—Nolan—goes for a brief walk...and then returns, glares at Harry, and flops on Malfoy’s lap.

*

Nolan is a bit uncomfortable now, he wants to go and move about too. But...he’s not going to leave Mr Malfoy alone with Potter.

Potter is _clearly_ a spy. Why is Mr Malfoy humouring him? Potter should be thrown out of Slytherin. 

“You know, I was almost sorted into Slytherin,” Potter says.

Nolan’s ears perk up in attention.

“The Sorting Hat said...uh, something about doing well in Slytherin. I think. But _you_ were in Slytherin so...”

Nolan presses up against Mr Malfoy as the pressure becomes heavy.

“You avoided Slytherin because of _me_?” Mr Malfoy says, voice deadly calm.

“Yeah.”

Nolan scoffs. _Then why did you join Slytherin now!_

“And I suppose you joined because of me, too.”

Nolan blinks as he watches Potter redden.

“No!” Potter lies very badly. “I joined because of House unity! I want to show the world that you’re not all bad. I wanted to see what it would be like if I had been in Slytherin. Honestly...I’m a little jealous of what you all have. You even accompanied the Slytherins out here to the Forest.” Potter smiles bitterly. “I didn’t even think about them. Even though I knew Remus, I didn’t _think_ beyond me.”

Nolan possessively curls his tail around Mr Malfoy’s arm.

Potter’s smile becomes soft. “Malfoy, the Slytherins really love you. Especially Nolan, am I right?”

...Nolan grumbles. It’s good that Potter knows the truth. But still! Nolan should hate Potter on principle! He stands up, turns around so his butt faces Potter, and lies back down on Mr Malfoy’s lap.

*

Draco can’t resist an exasperated smile as wolf-Nolan turns around. He scratches under Nolan’s chin for a moment.

“ _See?_ ” Potter says.

At that moment, Draco’s badge buzzes. He takes it out. “Yes?”

Blaise’s voice comes through, sounding a little tense: “Harry’s missing and he’s not answering his badge…”

Draco stares Potter straight in the eye. “He’s with me.”

“ _Oh_.” Blaise’s voice immediately relaxes. “In that case, I leave him in your good hands.”

Draco tucks the badge away again, eyebrow arching.

Potter lowers his head sheepishly as he pats his pockets. “I think I left it with my school robes…”

“ _And_?”

Potter blinks. “And...um…” He frowns, green eyes distant as he thinks. “Oh! I should remember it next time? ...And not run away from Zabini?”

“Good Potter,” Draco says, smirking. His hand rises, lifting to pat Potter on the head…

Potter’s gaze flickers to Draco’s hand.

At the last moment, Draco lays a hand on Potter’s shoulder instead. His heart thuds at the close call. Head patting an ex arch rival on the head would be unseemly.

Draco grips Potter’s shoulder. “Listen to me, and you’ll do well in Slytherin.”

Potter pulls a face. “Do I _have_ too? You’re barely older than me, _and_ you’ve never beaten me to the Stitch.”

Draco’s smile becomes cold and his grip harsh. “What did you say?”

“N-nothing!” Potter crosses his arms. “Sheesh, you’re such a prat. Do you want some apple pie?”

“Serve me.”

Potter rolls his eyes. “Yes, oh mighty master.”

Draco pulls his hand back as Potter moves to serve him a slice of pie.

Draco is talking idly to Potter when he feels something off. Mesa and Martin run back to him, and turn and face outwards to the Forest around them.

Draco immediately scans the area, his eyesight sharpening, eyes becoming bright silver.

Crackle of undergrowth, outlines of fur in the dim light.

 _Wolves._ Less than a dozen of them creep up into the small clearing, snouts low to the ground.

They are the students from the other houses.

And they’re staring at the leftover food.

Potter’s stare burns into the side of Draco’s face.

“Malfoy...come on…”

Draco lets the pressure of the dragon press down on them for the briefest of moments, forcing the wolves to bow their heads a little more. “As long as they stay peaceful,” he says coolly.

With short movements, Draco summons a separate quilt for the other students a few meters away from him, and levitates over the leftover plates of meat to them. For good measure, he casts a strong warming charm.

Potter has a satisfied expression on his face as the other wolves slowly approach. They eat, eyes constantly flickering back to Draco, and they curl up on the enlarged quilt with their heads warily facing him.

“This is good,” Potter says dreamily.

Draco jabs him in the side. “What are you looking at? Don’t you think it’s past your bedtime?”

“If it’s past my bedtime then it’s past yours!”

“I should send you back, you naughty Slytherin.”

Potter’s eyes widens. “No way—”

“But unfortunately, I have no intention of leaving, so I cannot escort you back. You’re a tasty morsel to many in the Forest, Potter.” Draco rubs his temples. “Damn it, you’ll have to stay.”

“I’m totally capable—wait? I can stay?” Potter’s eyes brighten. “Heh, I was going to stay anyway.”

Draco has to take a deep breath and resist the urge to tie Potter down.

*

Draco wakes up early in the morning, weak light filtering through the Forest canopy. Potter is snoring lightly beside him, his curly black hair poking out from the blankets and resting near Draco’s shoulder.

As for the other students…

When Draco went to sleep, Nolan, Martin, and Mesa had piled on him, blankets draped over top. They are now back to their human forms, sleeping peacefully.

The other students had curled up by themselves on that other quilt and covered with spare blankets. Somehow, during the night, their quilt-bedding has moved _much_ closer.

...The heating charm must have dissipated overnight.

He casts a wandless _Tempus_. It’s still early.

Draco breathes out, his skin heating up and sending out gentle waves of warm air.

He’ll let them all sleep a little longer.

*

The other students guiltily remember what they did last night. But there had been food, and a warm and safe place to sleep...why did the _Slytherin_ students get two Eighth Years to look after them, and they had no-one?

_Why didn’t Harry come on the previous full moons?_

As they accept a cup of hot chocolate from Harry’s hands, _first_ made by Malfoy, these students from the other Houses wonder…

 _He’s not like what the rumours say_.

*

Meanwhile, Madame Pomfrey is _not_ amused about the appearance of one sheepish Harry Potter.

***

That Friday evening, McGonagall announces that the Head of Houses will be conducting career meetings with students fifth year and up, starting from the Eighth years and working back.

Draco meets Pansy’s and Blaise’s dry looks and unanimously come to an agreement.

*

On Saturday morning, after breakfast in the Slytherin Commons, Harry finds himself staring uncomprehendingly at Malfoy.

“You... _want_ me to spend the day with Hermione and Ron?” Harry narrows his eyes. “Are you going to do something without me? I’m an Eighth Year Slytherin too!”

Malfoy clicks his fingers and a large pile of papers appear in the air, falling neatly onto the palm of his hand. “Pansy, Blaise, and I will be working through this pile of papers that are _unrelated_ to homework. You won’t be helpful,” Malfoy says ruthlessly. “Furthermore, Granger has been glaring at me. I’m sure she’s _dying_ to interrogate you. What you should say and what you should keep quiet...goes without saying.”

“Malfoy, I can’t read your mind.” Harry frowns.

Zabini steps over, smiling faintly. “What Draco means to say is to not reveal any details about the Slytherin Dungeons, neither its location, nor its interior. And no sensitive information about any Slytherin.”

Harry shifts uneasily. “Oh.”

Malfoy's eyes sharpen. “What did you tell them?” he commands.

“That there are food tables...and the library on the first floor…”

Malfoy looks at him expressionlessly. He turns away and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not even an Oath would stop Potter from telling his sidekicks everything…”

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but then Zabini lays a large, gentle hand on Harry’s arm.

“Don’t mind Draco, he also tells Pansy and myself everything. If nothing else, you two are a matched set.”

Harry stares at Zabini and cannot muster a response.

“Why don’t you go see your friends?” Zabini coaxes.

“...Okay.” Harry ducks his head, cheeks warming a little. Zabini’s smile is hard to look at for too long. He’s relieved when Zabini lets go of his arm.

“Don’t forget to bring your homework,” Malfoy says, turning away with his pile of papers.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, mum.”

Malfoy’s head whips around. “ _What_ did you call me?”

Harry blinks innocently. “Malfoy?” He gives them a wave. “I’ll collect my things and be off now!”

He happily leaves behind a miffed Malfoy.

Felicity and a sixth year accompany Harry to the Great Hall, where Harry has messaged Hermione and Ron via patronus to meet up.

Harry greets Hermione and Ron.

“You weren’t here for breakfast,” Ron says.

“I ate already,” Harry smirks.

Ron pulls a face. “Right, right. It’s a bit too early for a Quidditch game. Back to the Tower?”

“Okay.”

Harry feels a sense of nostalgia as he follows them back to the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione says the password and they enter.

“You should change the password, I could slip in any time.”

“That’s fine,” Hermione says shortly.

Various Gryffindors are lazing around the common room. They all look at Harry with complicated eyes. A student who Harry recognises from the morning after the full moon looks away.

Harry frowns. Do their clothes look...brighter than normal? He can’t shake off the oddness though when he, Ron, and Hermione sit down on one of the couches. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Hermione looks at him. “Didn’t you hear? Rumour is that McGonagall has been questioning students who dress in black muggle clothing about that Slytherin’s fall.”

Harry’s expression darkens. “I see.”

“Let’s play,” Ron says. “Exploding Snap or chess?”

Harry immediately chooses Snap, because neither he nor Hermione can stand up to Ron’s chess skills.

But it’s odd playing with Ron and Hermione instead of the little second years. Not to mention the gazes of the other Gryffindors, half unwelcoming, half assessing.

Harry glances out a window: it’s not raining, the conditions look okay to go out...

“Harry, what’s on your mind?” Hermione suddenly asks.

Harry startles. “Hm?”

“Yeah, have you been able to sleep well in the snakes’ den?” Ron says.

Memory of the Slytherins’ nightly routine flashes in Harry’s mind. “There are two beds in the Eighth Year dorm.”

“You mean the boy’s dorm?” Ron says.

“Nope, just one. I don’t think there’s a girls’ Eighth Year dorm at all. Did you know that Malfoy sleeps with Parkinson and Zabini? No? Neither did I. I didn’t even notice it on the Map previously…”

“... _Sleep_?” Ron’s voice gets a little strangled. “While...you’re still in the room? Do they at least put up silencing charms?”

Harry frowns at Ron. “They don’t seem to have nightmares, why would they put up a silencing charm?”

“...And so Parkinson sleeps in the same room as you?”

Harry nods. “They all sleep together hugging Malfoy...Parkinson keeps offering to let me join _every night!_ ” Harry looks up at Ron. “Is this some pureblood thing I don’t know about?”

“It is _not_ a pureblood thing,” Ron immediately says, shaking his head. “Definitely not!”

“If you didn’t notice them sleeping closer together before, it must be that they did it recently in order to mess with you,” Hermione says.

Harry frowns. Honestly, he can’t remember, since he rarely looks at the map at night, and by the time Harry’s awake the next morning, Malfoy and the others would already be up and about.

And Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini are too casual about it, and Harry doesn’t think they can act _that_ well. Are they such good friends that they sleep in the same bed?

Harry also remembers the night of the full moon when he “slept” with Malfoy on the same “bed”...

The Gryffindor entrance opens and Ginny and Luna appear. “Oh, Harry, you’re here?” Ginny says. “Wanna play a Quidditch game?”

Harry shakes off his thoughts and puts down his losing hand of Snap cards. “Yeah, that’ll be great.” He gets up and heads over to Ginny first, not seeing the troubled look that Hermione and Ron share.

*

Draco, Pansy, and Blaise have divided up time slots over the two days of the weekend. Using the empty Head Boy’s chambers as a private office that can be accessed from within Slytherin, at least two of them meet one-by-one with the upper-year Slytherins to discuss careers.

The meeting with Felicity is short—her mother is a judge, and she is fully committed to going down the same path.

However, the other meetings go longer, to the point that they have to schedule follow-ups.

The problem is that most plans have been completely upended by the War and its aftermath. Many Slytherin families fled England altogether. The ones who stayed are either stubborn, prepared to wait for a better future, or unable to leave. But businesses have gone bankrupt, connections with masters of various fields now tenuous at best.

There’s also increased fracturing between them and their parents, which Draco and Pansy understand intimately. What their parents want of them...is no longer what they want—except they’ve been on that course for _so long_ , and it’s hard to change, and dropping a subject or picking up an entirely new one are equally daunting prospects.

Draco promises that he will help with any subject changes and personally request any changes from McGonagall. Blaise and Pansy have both started brainstorming lists of career prospects and connections—in particular, Blaise’s and his mother’s connections remain expansive.

That fracturing between Slytherins and their parents though is of immediate concern. With less than three weeks now til Yule...Draco’s not sure whether some of them should return home. And _that_ would be a big break in protocol.

It is a question of whether Draco has the power to protect his Slytherins.

*

As for the ‘official’ meetings, the Eighth Years have their careers meetings at the start of the new week, scattered between their free periods and the afternoon after classes.

Draco’s career meeting with Professor Garren is on Tuesday afternoon, and a few minutes in, he’s already moved from sabotage to contemplating murder.

“...Or I suppose you will become a Wizengamot member like your father,” Garren spouts, despite being perfectly aware that will be impossible for at least the next decade. He proceeds to name a number of Wizengamot members who could mentor Draco.

Draco doesn’t smile back. Those members are precisely the ones who voted against Draco’s freedom at the War Trials.

It’s a waste of twenty minutes, especially Draco already knows what he’s going to do. He’s going to complete a _joint_ potions and charms mastery and then take over the Malfoy estates from his father’s increasingly unstable hands.

“Thank you, I’ll keep all of this in mind,” Draco says insincerely once Garren finishes his little speech.

“Ah, before you go, how is school going more general?” Garren has the nerve to say. “I hope Mr. Potter is settling in well.”

“Classwork is proceeding smoothly,” Draco says, the corner of his lips curling slightly in a smirk. “We have been assisting Harry, I believe his grades will also go up.”

“How lucky for Mr Potter to have a...friend...like you,” Garren says, equally insincere. He smiles benevolently, but his eyes remain cold. “I hope you remember to keep yourself in check, many people are watching you.”

“Of course, sir.” Draco stands up. “Have a good day.”

Draco leaves, inwardly rolling his eyes. Garren tries so hard to be threatening, but his sense of existence is extremely weak. Even the students dressing up as Aegis are more interesting to Draco.

After swapping notes with his two friends, Draco learns that Pansy’s experience was along the lines of, “ _Well, your grades are not particularly strong in any field”,_ and “ _Have you thought about being a writer for Witch Weekly?”_

“If I _do_ become one—and it’s a damn good job—then I would _drag_ Garren’s reputation through the muck,” Pansy vows.

And as for Blaise...

“No one is allowed to insult my mother,” Blaise says, still smiling. “I’ll help you, Pansy.”

*

Late in the evening, Draco and Blaise head out, scanning Hogwarts for any new hexes and jinxes beyond Felicity’s surveillance charms. The pulse and pattern of Hogwarts’ magic becomes increasingly familiar, making it easier for Draco to spot traces of magic that disrupt the patterns. Blaise continues to pat the walls, leading Draco to suspect that Blaise tends to feel magic rather than see it.

There’s a concerning number of disruptions. Aside from the large, crude spell-destruction, Draco finds many small imperfections. In a place like Hogwarts that can heal itself, those imperfections should _not_ have lasted long enough for Draco to find them.

On their return, they come across Argus Filch and Mrs Norris.

“You students—” Filch starts to snarl.

“Are Eighth Years, thus it is not yet our curfew,” Blaise says smoothly.

Mrs Norris stalks up to Draco and Blaise, sniffing.

Filch sneers. “Mrs Norris? Did you find something banned on the students?”

Mrs Norris jumps up at Draco. With surprise, Draco catches her against his chest.

“ _Purrr!!_ ”

Filch is speechless.

Draco shoots a glare at the smirking Blaise as Mrs Norris presses herself against Draco’s chest, much like how Pansy does when they’re going to sleep.

Blaise wraps an arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Hmm, toasty.”

Filch is aghast. “Mrs Norris! Come back here! Get away from that filthy student!”

“I’ll have you know that I’m extremely clean,” Draco retorts.

Filch lunges forward and tries to grab Mrs Norris back. Draco smoothly steps back.

“You cat thief!”

“I have no intention of stealing your cat!” Draco tugs Mrs Norris away from him, and puts her down, but she ends up rubbing against his leg instead.

“Let me,” Blaise says in an amused tone. “Mr Filch, if I may cast a warming charm on you?”

Filch stares at him in suspicion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Blaise smiles and casts. “Pick up Mrs Norris now.”

Filch does so, and when Mrs Norris realises that Filch has become warm too, she no longer strains to stick to Draco anymore.

This is because...it’s winter, and the floor is _cold_.

“Now be off with you!” Filch says gruffly as he pets his cat.

By the time Draco returns to the Slytherin Commons, the central firepit ebbs low. There are two figures, however. Potter, knees up staring at the flames, and Nolan who’s asleep on the couch.

Potter’s head perks up. “Malfoy! Zabini! You’re back.”

Draco and Blaise share a look. Blaise heads up to the mezzanine library area, while Draco walks to the central firepit.

“Just a moment,” he says quietly. He picks up Nolan and takes him back to his bed first.

Nolan doesn’t open wake, and Draco successfully tucks him in. _Was he waiting for me to return? Silly boy._

When Draco returns to the Commons, Potter has shifted on his couch, and the firepit is a touch brighter.

“It’s past your bedtime too, Mr Potter,” Draco drawls.

“ _You’re_ up, so I can stay up,” Potter retorts.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”

Draco prepares two mugs of hot chocolate. He hands Potter one, and takes a seat on the same couch, forcing Potter to pull his feet in closer lest he touch Draco.

Potter sips and a blissful smile grows on his face.

Draco lets the silence grow. And then he lets it extend some more when Potter starts getting shifty.

Draco tilts his head. “What’s on your mind? Did you enjoy your evening?”

“I realised you never told me what you were doing on the weekend,” Potter grumbles. “Jamie showed me the merpeople. I think they still remember me from Fourth Year.” Potter pulls out a protego badge. “I forgot to say, I think it’s cute that you’re making badges again for everyone.”

“It’s _not_ cute,” Draco scowls. “It’s a _highly_ practical device, one which I hope the second years _told_ you about. And Pansy, Blaise and I were holding career meetings.”

“A-huh.” Potter tucks the badge away again. “With Garren?”

“ _Without_ him. You’re _lucky_ you had a careers meeting with McGonagall.”

Potter grimaces and hunches his shoulders. “Yeah, well. She thinks I still want to be an Auror.” He darts a glance at Draco.

Draco wraps his fingers around his mug of chocolate and projects a calm and comforting presence.

“Anyway,” Potter continues. “Kingsley offered me a place with the Aurors. No NEWTs, he said, for anyone who fought in the War. Didn’t accept, in the end. But I said I’ll help out.”

“With the Auror raids?”

Potter snorts. “More like as Death-Eater-bait. Kingsley tracks my mail and traces back any malicious ones.” Potter’s voice tightens. “I just thought—killing Voldemort would be the end of it. But it’s _not_. There’s rogue Death Eaters. There’s Aegis. There’s this whole _divide_ in Hogwarts itself! It hasn’t gotten better since I resorted, has it? Malfoy?”

“No one was physically attacked last week,” Draco says. “So it _has_ gotten better.”

Potter’s not comforted by it. “And this week? Next week? What’s going to happen? Is someone going to _die_ next?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Draco says. “As long as I’m alive, I’m _not_ going to let any more Slytherins die.”

Potter’s lips quirk up. “Hm, seems like you’ve adopted my hero complex.”

Draco arranges his face into a flat expression. “I have _not_ , Potter. We were talking about _your_ future career. With your Potter and Black vaults, and the Sleekeazy profits, you could afford to be a gentlewizard of leisure and philanthropist. But I imagine that does not appeal to you.”

Potter blinks. “What? The hair potion?”

“ _Your_ grandfather invented it. Probably in an attempt to tame that _hair_.”

Potter runs a hand through said hair with a sheepish smile. “Yeah?”

Draco can tell that Potter had no idea.

It takes Draco a bit of work to tease out Potter’s favourite classes and hobbies. Eventually, Draco is able to write out a list of possible careers for Potter to think more about: ranging from charity work (Draco wrote that, because it would suit hero-Harry-Potter), to teaching (Potter says that Granger suggested it), to baker (on account of Potter’s sweet tooth and Draco refilling Potter’s hot chocolate _again_ ), and Quidditch player (because Potter’s a git who thinks he can still beat Draco at seeking).

“I expect you to have further clarity by the end of the month,” Draco finishes. “However, as these career options do not require you to change any subjects, you have some leeway.”

“Right, thanks,” Potter holds the list, lips forming silent words as he scans over it again. “ _Any_ of these sound better than Auror work.”

“Very good.” Draco stands up and sends their empty mugs to clean themselves. “Now it’s _extremely_ past your bedtime, Mr Potter.”

For all that Potter protests, by the time Draco finishes his nightly routine, Potter has already fallen asleep haphazardly on his bed on top of his quilt, as though he was lying in wait for Draco.

Draco’s heart feels a little sour and sweet. He tugs the quilt from under Potter and tucks him in properly. Yawning himself, Draco slides in between Pansy and Blaise and closes his eyes.

*

“Malfoy!” Potter accuses Draco the next day after breakfast. He catches Draco right outside the Great Hall, along with Pansy, Blaise, and a group of third year students ready to head to their morning class.

Draco frowns. “Yes, Potter?” Potter had been having breakfast with Granger and Weasley at the Gryffindor table. Potter usually returns back to his side, but it’s typically with an expectant, warm expression, and not the current pout on Potter’s face.

Potter holds up the list of careers. It’s already crumpled a little. “This!”

“Did we miss out on something?”

Granger and Weasley finally catch up. “What Harry _means_ —” Granger starts.

“—You _held_ a careers meeting with me!” Potter finishes.

Draco blinks. “And?”

“But—you—Parkinson and Blaise—” Potter’s words garble together.

“Ah,” Blaise says, patting Potter gently on the shoulder. “You’re a Slytherin, so of course we would hold a session with you too.” He side-eyes Draco. “Except it _should_ have been this evening with me as well.”

“I was merely taking advantage of an opportunity,” Draco drawls. “Potter needs more help. We’ll reschedule the co-meeting to a later date.”

“There were very good ideas there,” Granger says. “Although you missed out on the possibility of Harry attending a _muggle_ university.”

“Discuss amongst yourselves,”

“Wait!” Potter grabs Draco’s arm. “Hagrid also asked if we wanted to feed the thestrals this morning.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “You don’t need my permission.”

Pansy smirks. “He wants to see you naked.”

“I do _not_ strip down when I’m around thestrals,” Draco retorts. He looks pointedly at Potter—who’s reddening—until he drops Draco’s arm.

“Wait, what?” Weasley splutters. “There—are _kids_ listening!”

“...” Third year Nolan narrows his eyes in suspicion, while Harley scoffs, “We’re not babies!”

“We already know,” Sequoia adds guilelessly.

Weasley pales and grabs Potter by the shoulders. “ _What??”_

“I’ll take over your duties for the morning, Draco,” Blaise says. “You two go ahead. Pansy, remember to tell me everything afterwards.”

Pansy nods seriously. “Of course.”

Blaise escorts the third year Slytherins away to their first class. Draco, resigning to his fate during this free study period, sets a brisk pace to Hagrid’s Hut.

While Potter’s protesting to Weasley that there’s nothing going on, Pansy slows to Granger’s pace. Draco catches Pansy _apologising_ to Granger...and then they put up a privacy charm.

They meet Hagrid and levitate the buckets of meat to the thestrals’ clearing. Immediately, the yearlings clop over to Draco, flapping their wings.

“ _No_ ,” he tells them sternly. “We’re _not_ going flying today.” He lowers his voice. “Didn’t I promise you I’ll feed you a lot of meat? You shouldn’t do something so rigorous as flying directly after a meal.”

The yearling exhales gustily and noses Draco.

“ _No_ ,” Draco repeats sternly.

The thestral leader steps by and gives Draco a look. Draco is immediately affronted.

“Of _course_ I have friends,” he says.

“Oh _Morgana_ ,” Pansy says, laughter in her voice. “You really do talk with them!”

They feed the thestrals, but the young ones _still_ want to play so Draco finally takes the opportunity to charm up some jumping obstacles, with Pansy to help him.

“You’re so posh,” Potter says with a big grin on his face.

Weasley shudders. “How can you smile, Harry? _How_?”

“Harry is developing postwar unity,” Granger says.

“Yeah, but...if you’re making friends with Parkinson...am I supposed to get all friendly with _Zabini?_ ”

“But you _are_ friendly with him,” Potter says.

“Not because I _want_ to. He’s just so— _friendly!_ ”

A small thestral nudges Draco and neighs for good measure.

“Don’t give me that look,” Draco says, patting its flank. The thestral takes it as a cue to play around, and Draco indulges it. He pretends not to see Granger’s conflicted, complicated expression.

*

_Late at night, angry voices build and build._

_“Did you hear?!!”_

_“They dared to attack?!”_

_“Let’s teach them a lesson!”_

_Fire flares, and glass shatters._

*

When Draco wakes up, early the next morning, his mother’s owl is waiting for him. And as he reads the contents, his stomach flashes from cold to hot.

The relative peace of the last week cannot, has not, lasted.

His mother and father are safe. But he can already predict today’s news headline.

_**DEATH EATER ATTACK IN SOUTH ENGLAND! RIOTS IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY!** _

Malfoy Manor is in South England. He prays that his father was not stupid enough to let Greyback in for a visit.

Pansy awakes soon after, blinking when she sees that Draco is already fully dressed.

“What happened?”

Draco shows her his mother’s letter, and Pansy’s expression becomes grim.

“We need to find out whose families were living in Knockturn,” Draco says.

Pansy nods and summons her notes.

By the time breakfast has arrived, the news has already spread through Hogwarts, courtesy of an extra-early edition of the _Daily Prophet_.

Slytherin House moves as a quiet cohort to the Great Hall, and this time, Draco does not let Potter sit with Granger and Weasley.

“Didn’t you want house-unity?” Granger says, annoyed.

“ _Harry_ is sitting with me, don’t monopolise him. He’s not _your_ boyfriend.”

Granger reddens. “That has nothing to do with this!”

“Are you so unaware of the delicate situation? _You two_ may sit with us, but I will not put Harry under the wands of Gryffindor House who will want to lead a second ‘Knockturn Alley’ riot.”

Granger falters. “The what?”

“Have you not seen today’s _Daily Prophet?_ ”

“I don’t read their rubbish.”

“Blaise.”

Blaise steps forward and smoothly reports on the Death Eater attacks and subsequent Knockturn Alley riots.

Granger pales.

Potter looks at her. “Sit with me at Slytherin?”

“Okay,” Granger finally agrees.

Contemptuous eyes follow the Slytherins as they take their seats in the Great Hall. The Slytherins quietly discuss their work as they eat, while Granger hurriedly reads the newspapers.

 _“Look at them. They look guilty_.”

“ _Do you think Malfoy was part of those attacks last night?”_

A slim package drops onto a student in Hufflepuff. The student opens it, and a red envelope emerges, flying up and exploding into the air.

“ **DRACO MALFOY! YOU SNIVELLING DEATH EATER, HIDING AMONG THE INNOCENT HOGWARTS STUDENTS! LIKE** —”

Draco strikes the damn thing down with a burst of fire. 

_“Bet Malfoy’s here to **recruit**.”_

Draco glances down the Hufflepuff table. McGonagall banned howlers sent to Slytherins...so _someone_ sent a howler addressed to a Hufflepuff instead.

It feels very similar to the items Aegis previously sent.

“ _QUIET!”_ McGonagall orders. “I will _not_ tolerate any misbehaviour! Eat your breakfasts in an orderly fashion and proceed to your morning classes.”

It’s not enough, the voices dropping to whispers instead. Naming one Slytherin after another, _“That sixth year is way too good at Potions. I bet she brews poisons in her spare time…”_

_“The only reason that fifth year is so good at Defence against Dark Arts is because he **knows** dark arts.”_

_“What about the Slytherin that’s neither a boy nor a girl? I’ve seen them working with Malfoy…”_

It’s like a wizarding fireside murder investigation game. _Who are the Death Eaters?_ There’s only one answer, and it isn’t a trick. It’s only Draco.

_“Greyback is coming for us.”_

_“Malfoy is going to let them in **again**_.”

_“Malfoy’s recruiting.”_

_“Malfoy’s got Harry. Who’s next? Hermione? Ron? Neville?”_

_“—Hah! They’re **all** Death Eaters. Baby Death Eaters!”_

Unfair attention on _his Slytherins_ , Slytherins that he _must protect_. Draco fumes, curls of smoke wisping into the air.

Pansy grips Draco’s arm. “ _Draco!_ ”

Draco shakes Pansy off. “Some things must be clarified,” he sneers. He stands up and casts a _Sonorus._

Potter frowns as Draco sweeps a cold gaze across the Great Hall. When he has the attention of the other students, he finally speaks.

“That’s _right_. I’m the Death Eater. And I know _every single Death Eater_ , and I’m the _only_ Death Eater at Hogwarts. Harassing other Slytherins makes you _weak_. A _coward_.”

Draco smirks at the Hufflepuffs. At the Ravenclaws. At the Gryffindors. Mockingly. Daringly.

“I know you want to take me down. Then cut out your posturing and _challenge me to a wizard’s duel_ and fight a _real_ Death Eater. Unless...you’re scared.”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehh, more [episodic] plot again! Actually, there is a fair amount of plot, right? ....also, the problem with writing this spread over time...the shifting of my writing style 😅😅😅 Also, please don't insult Hermione, she's trying her best! Unlike Harry who's living in a romcom, she...isn't.
> 
> **The werewolf students from the other Houses** : Maybe Draco Malfoy isn't so bad...
> 
>  **Nolan** : ARGG!!! Why does everyone keep coveting Mr Malfoy!!!!
> 
>  **Draco** : ...
> 
> **Blaise** : Harry and Draco are a matched set.
> 
>  **Harry** : ???
> 
>  **Draco** : ...
> 
>  **Pansy** : *smirks*
> 
> **Harry** : *sighs* Eating my vegetables, making me do homework...You're such a mum, Malfoy.
> 
>  **Draco** : *draws his wand* Repeat that if you dare.
> 
>  **Harry** : *innocent* Huh?
> 
> *meanwhile in alternate universe*
> 
> After the full moon night:
> 
>  **Harry,** mumbling to himself: I was _**so**_ close! Malfoy was definitely going to head pat me. But then he didn't... 😭
> 
>  **Harry** : Ah. But I did get to sleep with Malfoy...with half a dozen students present...It can be called "sharing one bed". Hehehe... 😜😇
> 
>  **Ron** : *was planning to comfort Harry but now slowly backs away*


	13. Chapter 13

“...Then cut out your posturing and _challenge me to a wizard’s duel_ and fight a _real_ Death Eater. Unless...you’re scared.”

Unlike the noise after Harry Potter’s resorting, the Great Hall is silent.

McGonagall stands up immediately. “No one will be dueling outside of the practice duels underseen by a professor!”

Draco sits down smoothly. McGonagall knows full well that she can’t stop students duelling.

“Draco,” Pansy growls, “I hope you realise this means we can’t have you accompany the lower years anymore! You’re a walking spell target now!”

“Coincidentally, we have a new Slytherin who can take my place. Harry.”

Potter startles at the sound of his name. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is also a big target,” Blaise says.

Potter frowns. “Well, I always have been...”

Pansy waves Potter’s words away. “No, Potter will be your second.”

Draco and Potter look at each other. Potter opens his mouth to speak—

“That’s sorted then,” Pansy interrupts. “The rest of us will leave first, and you two will leave last, understood?”

“Yes, Pans,” Draco says.

Granger frowns. “Didn’t you all hear what McGonagall just said?” 

“Well,” Weasley says hesitantly, “You know that people won’t listen...”

Granger’s face darkens. “Did you _have_ to go and provoke everyone, Malfoy?”

Draco slowly sips his coffee and says, “I am not asking you to protect me. I must say, I was surprised that you didn’t stop Potter testifying for me at my War Trial.”

“You were a minor,” Granger says coldly. “Of course I would allow Harry to testify for you. Anything less would be obstruction of justice.”

“Is that so.” Draco returns to eating his breakfast, ending that conversation with finality.

*

In Potions class, Garren’s eyes are cold and angry, tracking Draco’s movements as he works with Potter on their assigned potion. When class ends, he tells Draco to stay back. Potter diligently stays as well, trying to take on the role of protector seriously.

“Mr Potter, why don’t you hurry to your next class?” Garren says politely. “I need to speak with Mr Malfoy in private.”

Potter hesitates, frowning a little. “But my next class is with Draco.”

10 points for innocence, Draco thinks. “Harry, listen to Professor Garren and wait outside for me.”

“...Fine.”

Garren closes the door and turns back to Draco.

“You were brash, Mr Malfoy,” Garren says, lip curling up into a sneer. “You were _this_ close to breaking your parole terms. Inciting violence is unacceptable. Do you know _why_ I was appointed Head of Slytheirn?”

“I understand that you are an accomplished Potions Master,” Draco says, gaze cool. “It is tradition that the Potions Professor is Head of Slytherin.”

Garren gives him a superior expression. “Slytherin House needed _reform_. And who better than a Ravenclaw to do so? But _you_.” Garren looks one step away from drawing his wand. “You’re _soiling_ the name of Slytherin again. All my _hard work_ will go to waste.”

_Hard work?_ Who is Garren trying to fool? Garren hadn’t done _anything_ helpful for Slytherin House beyond the absolute necessities.

Draco inclines his head. “I will endeavour otherwise,” he replies. 

“You’re on thin ice, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Sir, I’ll be late for my next class.”

Just on time, Potter knocks on the door and opens it. “We need to get going, sir.”

Garren snorts and waves his hand in dismissal.

*

The first duel comes by letter invite to the seventh floor during lunch.

Potter throws off Granger and Weasley and steadfastly follows Draco to the Room of Hidden Things.

“If it’s _here_ then…” Potter trails off.

_Then it’s not on fire anymore?_ Draco thinks.

Outside, a Hufflepuff is standing guard. He sees Draco and Potter and his face goes a bit sour. “Malfoy. Harry Potter, you should wait outside…”

“I’m Draco’s second,” Potter says, crossing his arms. His magical aura bleeds out, making the Hufflepuff grimace.

“Fine, fine.” The Hufflepuff goes inside first, and after half a minute, finally lets Draco and Potter inside.

It is not Draco’s Room of Hidden Things. Instead, it is a large open hall.

And waiting for them are Laurel Gardiner and her group of Hufflepuffs.

“It would have been so much easier if we had done this from the beginning,” Draco drawls, taking out his wand.

Gardiner’s eyes dart to Potter. “As long as you don’t cheat. We’re all watching.”

One of the Hufflepuffs acts as arbiter. There’s no set rules. Nothing to prevent Draco _hurting_ Gardiner if he wants, aside from his parole terms. More importantly, nothing to prevent Gardiner hurting Draco.

The moment after they bow, Draco rips Gardiner’s wand from her hand with Potter’s signature “ _Expelliarmus!”_

There’s stunned silence for a moment before Gardiner _dashes_ towards him, intent on decking it out the Muggle way. With a swish and flick, Draco _leviosa_ ’s himself up and above them all.

“Get _down_ here!” Gardiner shouts. She tries to wandlessly summon her wand back, but Draco’s grip on it is much tighter than her spell can dislodge.

The stalemate stretches for long minutes, and no amount of jumping works.

One of the Hufflepuff boys huffs pointedly. “Just give up, Laurel. I want my turn.”

“ _Accio wand!_ ” Gardiner tries again. Draco’s grip tightens on her wand, keeping it firmly in hand.

A dark and angry expression falls over Gardiner’s face. “ _Fine_ ,” she growls. “Come down here and give me back my wand.”

“Not until you conceded,” Draco drawls.

Her expression becomes even darker, and she’s glaring both at Draco _and_ at her friends. “Fine. You fucking win. I _concede_.”

Draco looks expectantly at the Hufflepuff arbiter, until they reluctantly say, “And the duel goes to Malfoy.”

Draco gracefully descends and releases her wand when Gardiner snaps out a _“Accio wand!_ ”

Potter steps closer to Draco. “I’m surprised you didn’t duel her properly.”

Draco raises a brow. “Why are you complaining? I used _your_ signature spell. You should feel honoured.”

“Enough talking, next duel!” the Hufflepuff boy shouts.

The immediate _Expelliarmus_ trick doesn’t work on the following duels as the Hufflepuffs keep a tight grip on their wands. But such a tight grip slows their casting.

Meanwhile, Draco holds the Ministry-assigned wand easily in his hand. Spells flick out, racing towards his opponent. The Ministry wand is obedient under his fingers, its allegiance slowly becoming _Draco_ ’s instead of the Ministry.

Jelly Legs Jinx, Tripping Jinxes, Summoning charms on their shoes to trip them…

“Be serious, Malfoy!” the Hufflepuff boy splutters as he stumbles.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” In the Hufflepuff’s moment of distraction, Draco successfully obtains his wand.

Draco spins the wand in his free hand. “Am I not serious?”

The boy fails to _accio_ his wand back. He’s forced to surrender just as Gardiner had.

Draco takes off his heavy school robes and hands them to Potter. Underneath, he has a starched white shirt with a ruffled front and puffed sleeves, and black pressed trousers. He tilts his head cockily. “Next.”

Draco casually deals with them, because all the Hufflepuffs keep to legal spells, even _their_ wands aren’t monitored.

“ _Best out of three!_ ” Gardiner jumps in the moment Draco wins against the last of her friends. “Unless you’re _scared_!”

Draco _scourgify_ ’s himself of the light sweat across his brow. “Make it quick,” he drawls. “I have lunch.”

Gardiner fights back more strongly this time round, but the moment Draco summons fire with his hand, she flinches, perfect timing for Draco’s other hand holding his wand to cast.

“Again!”

She loses again.

“Again!”

“Best out of three,” Draco says. “I’m heading to lunch. If you want to starve, that is not my problem.” He casts a cleaning charm himself and takes his robes back from Potter.

Someone attempts to strike while his back is turned. Draco dodges, while Potter leaps forward and snaps out a _“Protego!_ ”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Potter shouts. “Go to lunch!”

The Hufflepuffs bite back their anger.

“Leave them be,” Draco says, pressing a hand on Potter’s back. “Let’s go.”

Potter startles. “Um, okay…” He quickly steps forward away from Draco’s hand and leads the way to the Great Hall for lunch.

*

In the afternoon, Draco duels against some Gryffindors out in some gardens behind Hogwarts. Potter is once again tasked with holding Draco’s robes. As the Gryffindors slink away with their tails between their legs, Draco flicks his hair back.

“Not as bad,” Draco comments, fingers running a light refreshing charm on his hair. His shirt is clinging to him due to sweat and an _Augmenti_ by one of the Gryffindors that he failed to dodge. He takes off the shirt and summons a new one. Potter’s already seen him topless many times. “Did you hold extra dueling classes for the Gryffindors?”

Potter’s ears are red, and he doesn’t meet Draco’s eyes, instead looking at the garden around them. “No,” Potter says faintly.

Draco has to tug before Potter lets go of Draco’s robes. Potter flushes and mutters a sorry. “But they did _ask_ a lot…”

“Hm.”

Potter looks up at Draco with a self-deprecating expression. “You were good. You don’t need me at all.”

Draco snorts. “Yes, I imagine so,” he drawls, “That happens when you have Bellatrix and the Dark Lord teaching you.” He was being truthful to Gardiner all those weeks ago—she should have tried the _Crucio_ , because most other spells simply weren’t as painful.

“I know.”

Draco pauses. “You _know_.”

“Yeah. I could see from Voldemort’s eyes sometimes, during the War. I saw you.”

Draco stares. Potter _saw_. But what did he see? Does he know about Draco’s dragon form then?

No, he doesn’t, Draco decides. The advanced potions the Dark Lord used on Draco are beyond Potter’s Potions comprehension.

“...You’re not useless, Potter.”

Potter snorts. “Yeah? So what have I done since I joined Slytherin?”

“You’ve looked after the second years.”

“More like they looked after me!”

“You had fun with them,” Draco cajoles.

“I’ve seen the papers,” Potter says with a thread of defeat. “I should have just requested an alliance with you.”

Draco turns and faces Potter properly. “Potter. The only reason I’m saying this is because you are now a Slytherin. You are a very important foil for me. Our contrast shows how great I am.”

Potter snorts, but a smile curls up in his lips. “Don’t you think _I’m_ the protagonist?”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “You’re only the _Chosen One_. Whereas I am _Draco Malfoy_.”

Potter pulls a face and shoves Draco lightly. “You git. In fact, _you_ should have joined _me_ in Gryffindor.”

“I’m your elder, you must follow me,” Draco says superiorly. He pats Potter on the head and then straightens Potter’s robes. “Such slovenliness, Potter. Come.”

Instead of protesting against Draco like he expects, Potter looks a little bewildered, endearingly so….how peculiar. With a touch of indulgent exasperation, Draco presses a hand on Potter’s back, pushing him to head back towards the castle.

“Now, I need some duels from the Ravenclaws to complete the set of three.”

Potter glances at him and mumbles, “Of course you would say that.” He re-adjusts his robes and runs a hand through his hair hiding the redden tips of his ears.

*

In the evening, after dinner, Draco and Blaise go out on their inspection of the castle. Along the way, Draco gets his wish to face some Ravenclaws.

Draco gives them a point for wearing the short robes favoured by professional duelists.

“We’re not _dueling_ per se,” one Ravenclaw girl says. “We’re having duelling _practice_.”

Draco doesn’t bother to argue with them. He simply defeats them and continues on the inspection with Blaise.

Grudgingly learning from Blaise, Draco finds it easier to skim his fingers across the walls. Magic activates under his fingertips, the colours intertwining and glowing across the wall surface. Is it his imagination, or has the spell patterns visibly frayed in the short time that Draco dueled with those Ravenclaws? Draco’s eyelids lower. It’s as though Howarts has aged...was the Battle the turning point?

When they get back, Pansy and Potter are seated on the Eighth Year sofa.

“What took you so long?” Pansy asks.

“We met some Ravenclaws,” Draco says airily, taking a seat next to Potter. He accepts some of the paperwork Pansy hands him.

Potter gives him a look of dismay. “You had duels without me?”

Draco pats Potter on the arm. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

*

Draco wakes up the next morning to the _crack_ of a house-elf. His mother’s personal house-elf. He quickly extricates himself from Pansy and Blaise.

“Your mother has a letter for you, Young Master Draco,” the house-elf says. After handing it over, the house-elf disappears.

Draco’s immediately on alert. He scans the letter.

_This...! How do I handle this?_

Students wanting to duel Draco is one thing. Draco can deal with them. All the people he _might_ have trouble with are either already on his side, or are ‘above’ dueling in Granger’s case.

But his _father_ receiving requests for duels from the wizarding public is another thing entirely.

Draco can only hope that his mother is successful in suppressing his father, because Lucius’s dueling touch has declined. But Malfoy Manor is not impenetrable.

“...Draco? What’s wrong?” Pansy raises her head sleepily.

Draco folds up the letter. “It can wait.”

“Hmm…” Pansy lowers her head again. They both know Draco will tell her later.

Once Pansy is asleep again, Draco unfolds the letter once more.

The information about Draco’s declaration spread...which students or professors was it? Do those requesting duels have any connections with Aegis? It would certainly be convenient for them to let someone else come in and destroy Malfoy Manor for them.

Later that morning, when they head to the Great Hall for breakfast, McGonagall is waiting for Draco.

Draco nods slightly to Pansy. She leads everyone else inside, leaving Draco outside with McGonagall.

“Good morning, Professor.”

“Good morning, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall says, her voice steely. “You _cannot_ go to Hogsmeade this weekend. I do _not_ authorise any vengeance duels. I’ll have you know that I’ve had to turn people away from Hogwarts’ gates!”

Draco’s eyes turn sharp.

“Hogwarts is a place of _education_. Yet you’re playing into the Ministry’s hands to undermine it,” McGonagall scowls.

Draco doesn’t apologise, but he doesn’t defend himself either. He simply bows his head in acknowledgement of her words.

“Be careful,” McGonagall finally says.

She lets him go. The two of them head into the Great Hall, he to the Slytherin table and her up to the Professor’s table.

What she doesn’t seem to realise is that the Slytherins _haven’t_ been to Hogsmeade unless absolutely necessary, and Draco has not been to Hogesmeade at all. It’s much safer to buy via owl-order or by proxy through a house-elf.

Doesn’t she know that it hasn’t been safe for them for months?

“ _Draco_ ,” Pansy says, her hand squeezing down on his arm. “You’re _burning_ up.”

“What’s the point of _house unity_ when the school year’s exactly the same as ever?” Draco says lowly. He grabs a firm green apple, feeling the satisfaction of crunching into it.

The satisfaction quickly fades. His skin crawls, the dragon wants to show its dominance. Maybe he’ll fight those people outside Hogwarts’ gates. He _can_ win. He _will_ win.

—Unless they’re professional duelists.

Draco serves himself sausages and eggs instead of his usual morning pastry. He can hear the susurration of whispers about the _despicable Malfoy_.

He can feel the tugs of his bonds to the Slytherins. The people he must protect.

There’s a rare emotion in his chest. Regret. Did announcing his challenge help? Was it just a temporary reprieve before it gets _worse?_

“...Draco?” Pansy looks at him in concern. “Should we leave?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he says, but his voice comes out all low and growly.

“I’m not taking your shit,” Pansy says. “Felicity?”

Felicity nods.

With that, Pansy drags Draco out of the Great Hall. “What’s gotten into you?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Draco retorts, tugging his arm back. “May as well get a head start on the day. People are _waiting_ at the gates.” Draco turns sharply down the corridor, angling directly for the big doors _out_.

Pansy follows him. “What are you talking about?”

“ _I_ think,” Draco says, without turning round, “that McGonagall’s been so _fair_ because she treats _everyone_ the same way. When she doesn’t know everything.”

“We don’t tell her anything,” Pansy points out.

“ _Nothing_ I do is right. Why isn’t _Blaise_ leading Slytherin? He’s calm, he’s charming, even _Weasley_ likes him! Even _Garren_ likes him!”

“Don’t be so miserable,” Pansy says bluntly.

Draco continues walking. The outside air hits with a burst of coolness, and the grey sky beckons.

But Draco stops and consciously decides not to head to the Forest.

If he goes to the Forest, he’ll be even further away from his Slytherins. They’re more important. Draco ruthlessly squashes the flame in his stomach, squishing into a tiny inferno and wrapping the dragon around it.

Pansy grabs his arm and frowns. “Draco…you’re burning up.”

“It’s fine.”

Pansy places a hand on her hip and scoffs. “You know, are you ever going to tell me _why_ you’ve turned into a walking warming charm this year?”

Draco’s eyes become shadowed. “Do you really want to know?”

Pansy raises one eyebrow. “You can’t scare me.”

Draco looks around. They’re alone outside the front of Hogwarts castle. But Draco casts a privacy charm nonetheless, before holding out his hand.

With clear suspicion, Pansy takes his hand.

Carefully, his nails turn into claws. Slowly, pale scales grow across his skin.

“Do you see?”

Pansy blinks at the transformation. “And what am I _supposed_ to see?”

“Did you know that Pomfrey thinks I’m a weredragon?”

“ _Werewhat?_ —there are no such _things_ as weredragons...No way, are you a dragon animagus?”

Draco smiles sardonically. “I would have wished.”

Pansy huffs. “You’re being dramatic. Hmm...I would have known if you tried to hold a mandrake leaf in your mouth for months…”

“I’m not a pureblood anymore, Pansy.”

“That doesn’t make _sense_.”

Draco leans closer to Pansy. “It’s a present from the Dark Lord. He wasn’t satisfied with having mere _wolves_ and _vampires_ under his command.”

Pansy’s eyes flashed. “ _That_ bastard?”

“That bastard,” Draco repeats. “Poor Mother, she’s been trying to arrange marriage for me with any pureblood witch of reasonable standing. Imagine the scandal.”

Pansy makes a mock-annoyed expression. “Why haven’t I heard about this? I thought _we_ were fake-marrying and keeping lovers on the side.” She shakes her head. “But seriously, _dragon_ blood? Surely you would need a constant infusion of it…” She reads something from Draco’s expression. “...Or maybe not. Give me the details. I won’t tell anyone. You _know_ this.”

The corner of Draco’s lips curls up. She’s his oldest friend. And...he’s been keeping this secret for too long. Only the thestrals know of it, but they’re not Pansy.

More importantly, he can’t lie to her face-to-face like this.

So he looks straight into her eyes. “Go ahead.”

Pansy falters. “Okay—of course.” She raises her wand. “ _Legilimens_.”

Draco brings the required memories forth, and both he and Pansy submerge into them.

— _Draco’s arms are strapped down on the arm rests. The Dark Lord smirks, teeth sharp._

_“Let’s see, let’s see…” A cold hand lifting Draco’s chin. “Don’t be **afraid** , this will make you stronger.” A white hand beckons Greyback over._

_“You should just let me bite him,” Greyback baring teeth, sharp despite his human form._

_“ **Hold** your tongue,” Dark Lord hisses. He summons the item from Greyback, and stabs it into Draco’s arm, right above the Dark Mark._

_It **burns and burns** , like fire licking up his blood vessels, like acid across his skin. It spreads through his veins, through his body, stretching thin tendrils through his flesh._

_But it’s just pain. Draco is used to pain, detaches himself from it. It’s not as painful as the Cruciatus Curse._

_“ **Well?** ” the Dark Lord scowls. “Stand up.”_

_“Can you feel the beast?” Greyback whispers, low and dark._

_Draco tugs at the restraints obediently, but he has no strength._

_The Dark Lord snaps out a diagnostic, and scowls when it clearly fails. “ **Crucio!** ” Greyback falls back, howling in pain._

_“Useless. Try **again** , Fenrir!” The Dark Lord frees Draco. Crucios him too for a moment, before kicking him out of the quarters._

_“Again, tomorrow. Don’t disappoint me, **Draco** , or I might find a different use for your blood.”_—

Pansy gasps, breaking the connection. She grabs his arm—the one with the Dark Mark on it—but she won’t find any left over evidence from that event. The dragon had healed it perfectly.

“What the Dark Lord had _forgotten_ in his superiority was that the beast is triggered by anger,” Draco says coolly. “And I was too scared for that.”

“When?”

Draco takes his arm back, sleeve covering the Dark Mark. “When I finally returned to Malfoy Manor at the end of it all. After the War Trials. And when my _father_ had the _gall_ to suggest that I had _failed_ the Dark Lord and ruined the Malfoy name.”

Pansy snorts. “Ah, that would do it.” She leaps forward and wraps Draco in a sudden hug.

Draco mutters, “Pans, why are you being so maudlin for. It doesn’t suit you.” He cringes when Pansy’s grip _tightens_.

“That’s _not_ the point. Oh—just hug me back, you idiot.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but does so. Pansy’s heart beat is strong and steady, and Draco’s honoured to have her as his oldest friend.

Draco sniffs. And breathes in a very familiar scent.

“...Potter’s coming.” Draco ends the privacy charm.

“Heh, _let_ him.” Pansy tilts her head up, licking her lips, and drops a hand to Draco’s hip.

“Draco! Parkinson??” Potter looks between them, his expression falling. “Oh, did I interrupt you…”

Draco detaches from Pansy. “It was a platonic hug.”

“If you insist, come join us,” Pansy says brightly, her eyes mischievous.

“No, no,” Potter shakes his head.

“Did I say you were allowed to disobey me?” Pansy says.

“...No…” Potter lowers his head and meekly walks to them.

Pansy extends an arm and forcefully pulls Potter into their hug.

Draco’s chest eases as he holds Pansy and Potter in his arms. There is no danger, only calm, and Potter’s rapidly increasing heartbeat.

Potter clears his throat and steps back.

“I wonder,” Pansy muses in a voice that’s definitely up to no good, “if any of the other houses heard of our Slytherin Prince.”

Potter’s ears redden. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask, but doesn’t everyone know who Malfoy is? 

Pansy raises an eyebrow. “The Slytherin Prince isn’t Draco. It’s Blaise. Prince Charming. Half of Slytherin has a crush on him. Draco’s always been a bit too sharp and caustic.”

Potter’s eyes widen in horror, the red across his ears spreading. “It’s...not Malfoy?” His gaze darts to Draco and then quickly away again. “Woops?”

“Tell me, Harry,” Pansy leans in. “Why did you think it was Draco?”

Potter backs away. “Because. Because…”

“Don’t worry, we knew you stalked Draco just as much as he obsesses about you.”

“Pansy!” Draco slaps his hand over Pansy’s mouth.

“Um, neither of you finished breakfast, so can we go back inside?” Potter asks.

Pansy glances at Draco. Unlike a few minutes ago, Draco is now composed.

“Okay,” Pansy nods. Together, the three of them head back inside.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wo-ow? We’re getting into the heavy plot points that I had been planning for ages, but that means less fluff ah… 
> 
> Okay, not a spoiler, if you want to know what I based Draco’s dragon abilities on, see my drarry fic [Stronger (Unbroken) _((REMADE))_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904881)!!!! 
> 
> **Draco** : *takes off his robes to duel* *shirt gets wet*
> 
> **Harry** : *nosebleed*
> 
> *when Harry got the sudden head pat*
> 
> **Harry** : why does my hair feel all tingly...and my heart is beating so fast?? Why do I feel like this??? Why can’t I stop blushing??
> 
> **Draco** : ...Why is he so cute??? Why???
> 
> **Pansy** : I’m going to cause trouble for Draco hehehehe
> 
> **Harry** : *entire face goes red*
> 
> **Draco** : ?????
> 
> **Nolan** : Mr Malfoy is duelling?? So cool! I want to watch!
> 
> **Harry** , who has been left behind: So do I *grumble grumble*
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe where Harry has a higher EQ (emotional intelligence) maybe (???)*
> 
> **Harry** : *gets brief head pat* *enjoys it without even thinking about it*
> 
> _Later_...
> 
> **Harry** : ...wait??? Did I just get a head pat??? What??? Why was that so quick??? Malfoy!!! Where is he?
> 
> **Nolan** : *smirks* That means Mr Malfoy doesn’t like you as much as me~
> 
> **Jamie** : Mr Malfoy gives nice long head pats!
> 
> **Harry** : QAQ 😭
> 
> **Draco** : *walks in to see Nolan and Jamie comforting Harry* Hmm, glad to see that they’re getting along.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry sighs in Transfiguration class.

Harry can still remember his hug with Malfoy and Parkinson. How warm and cozy it felt. Is that how Parkinson and Zabini and Malfoy feel when they hug each other to sleep?

“Harry,” Hermione prods him, breaking him of his thoughts. “Are you even practicing? We have tests and assignments due next week, this is important! Don’t tell me you haven’t done them…”

“I’ve started!” Harry protests. Malfoy had forced him to start.

Hermione turns to Ron, and Ron protests also, “I’ve started too!”

Hermione huffs. “If you want to enjoy the weekend tomorrow, you need to get your work done now. That does it, we’re all meeting at the Library immediately after class. You both will get the Transfiguration assignment done while it’s still fresh in your minds.”

“...But I’m hungry…” Ron says sadly.

“I have some snacks—” Harry starts.

“Great!”

“—that Malfoy gave me.”

Ron freezes. “Erm. Ah. As long as you take a bite first…”

Hermione looks at them and returns to her own work with a snort.

After class, Harry tells Malfoy that he’s following Hermione. They see each other again at dinner. The majority of the students are now talking about visiting Hogesmead and the upcoming Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw match.

Hermione and Ron grudgingly sit with Harry at the Slytherin table: the house-elves seem to have caught on, because there is a set of dishes especially for Ron at the Slytherin table when they sit down.

“Did you finish your Transfiguration assignment?” Malfoy asks.

“Yep,” Harry says. “What are you doing after dinner?”

“Draco is running a potions tutoring session,” Pansy says.

“Oh, I can—”

“Harry, you’ve done your potions assignment already,” Hermione says. “You need to work on your Care Of Magical Creatures assignment next. Since there is no Slytherin doing it, it would be easier for you to do it with Ron after dinner.”

Harry deflates. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Parkinson says, with a knowing smile, “Draco would _love_ to hold a one-on-one session with you. A little more potions study will not go astray.”

Harry turns to Malfoy.

Malfoy’s lips quirk. “Yes, yes, we still need work to lift you to Slytherin standards. Sunday night, all the better for you to remember ahead of Monday’s lesson.”

Ron gives Harry a commiserating pat. “If you stayed in Gryffindor, you won’t have to do work on a Sunday.”

“ _Ron_ ,” Hermione interjects.

“And _that’s_ why I’m better at you in Potions,” Harry says.

“What do you even need potions for,” Ron counters. “It’s enough to pass…” His voice trails off and he sneaks a guilty look at Hermione.

“I _know_ there is more to life than grades,” Hermione says sullenly.

“Yes, but we are all grateful for you helping to raise Harry’s academic levels,” Zabini says. “Is there any method you’ll like us to reimburse you?”

Hermione immediately looks conflicted. “ _You_ know…”

Harry rolls his eyes. “What are you talking about? _I_ should be the one repaying Hermione! Without her, me and Ron would have died seven times over!”

“Yes, we are all very grateful for Granger’s ability to keep you alive,” Malfoy drawls. “Weasley, can’t you be a Gryffindor and try a new dish?”

Harry snickers at Ron’s expense.

With Malfoy, Parkinson, and Zabini, the conversation always carries well.

By the time dinner ends, Harry is a bit reluctant to leave Malfoy and the others. He wants to suggest that Hermione and Ron come with him to the Slytherin Dungeons, but from Malfoy’s warning before, combined with Hermione and Ron’s continued apprehensiveness, it won’t be possible.

Regretfully, Harry says goodbye to the other Slytherins and trudges to the library with Ron and Hermione to do an assignment.

*

After dinner, Severus’ old potions laboratory is busy with Slytherin students.

Over the weeks since the start of the school year, Draco has expanded Severus’s old potions laboratory. He was pleasantly surprised that Hogwarts _allowed_ the extra wizard space—even Malfoy Manor is resilient to Draco’s attempts to modify it, and his mother has to coax it to change. That said, with the knowledge of Hogwarts’ flexibility, he and Blaise had gone on to make much greater changes to the Slytherin Common Room.

Regardless, the potions laboratory now has a dedicated table for the improvements on the badges and Pansy’s healing potions, space for the dedicated Slytherins who have their brewing projects, including Aster, and space for tutoring sessions.

Draco has already helped the younger students before dinner: it’s best to teach them before they completely relax after eating. Now that it’s after dinner, the students in the laboratory are the older students, most of whom don’t require any instruction.

Draco flips through his notes on the badges and a book on blood magic he had found in one of Severus’s secret cabinets inside Severus’s old bedroom. Severus’s handwriting fills the margins.

The concept of _blood_ has been on Draco’s mind, especially after his conversation with Pansy that morning. The dragon blood in his veins means that his blood is no longer suitable for spells calling for human blood.

But it gives _him_ enhanced abilities. If he can use it to protect his Slytherins, wouldn’t that be one of the best ways to posthumously laugh at The Dark Lord?

Three variations of a protective ward potion bubble in the miniature cauldrons on Draco’s workspace. Their bubbling calms down, and it’s now the perfect time for the next step.

_Knock knock knock!_ The sound comes from the front door of Severus’s office.

“I’ll get it,” Aster says.

Draco nods. Droplets of his blood fall into each cauldron. In an instant, the blue-ish colours of the potions turn to a deep fire red. Draco frowns, jotting this down. No, it would have been impossible for that potion the Dark Lord gave him to only contain dragon blood...what else was in there? What was causing this reaction?

“Draco—” Aster’s voice rises sharply.

Draco snaps a _stasis_ charm on his potions and quickly turns. The door to the potions laboratory opens violently.

Garren steps up and blocks the doorway. His eyes sweep across the laboratory and land on Draco. “ _Brewing_ without a Professor’s supervision. I should have known!”

Aster’s head pops up behind Garren, their expression distraught. _Sorry_ , they mouth.

Draco goes cold then hot. His fingers twitch towards his wand. He takes a step toward Garren.

“How did you even get _in_ here? Snape’s quarters were _locked_.” Garren attempts to peer at the potions. “Do I even want to _know_ what kinds of things you Slytherins are brewing in here? Illicit potions?”

Draco intercepts Garren, going chest-to-chest. “Severus was my _uncle_ ,” he says coldly. “Now kindly _leave_.”

Garren doesn’t step back, looking down on Draco. “The half blood Snape was _your_ uncle?” His lip curls. “Or was he...more?”

“He was my godfather,” Draco snaps. He hates the way Garren is looking at his Slytherins. “Get out.”

“Don’t think you can _order_ me.”

Garren’s still taller, more built in his age. But Draco has a _dragon_ curled inside of him. He pushes forward and shoves Garren out of the laboratory.

“Get your hands _off_ me!” Garren thunders.

Draco sneers and he shoves Garren again. Garren stumbles backward. Draco kicks his knee and shoves him out of Severus’s office and into the empty corridor.

With one last shove, Draco draws his hands back, crossing his arms and blocking the doorway to the rooms. “Listening to _you_ would require me to respect you,” he drawls, looking at Garren like the dirt beneath his boots.

Garren bares his teeth. “You’re been insubordinate, you bloody little Death Eater. Do you know what the Ministry thinks of me now? They think I _let_ you do that damned stunt with the duels! This behaviour ends NOW!”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you going to start acting like a proper Head of Slytherin? Are you _actually_ going to teach us Potions instead of bowing and scraping to the students of the other Houses? No?” Draco sniffs and turns.

“ _Look at me!_ ” Garren grabs him and spins him round.

“Don’t touch me,” Draco says coldly. With a snap, his MInistry wand—now _his_ wand—flies from its wand hostler into his hand. In a heartbeat, the wand points to Garren’s chest. “You want me to respect you? Then defeat me.” Draco smiles cockily. “Go on, I’ll be benevolent and allow you the first spell.”

“You _dare…!_ ” In a flash, Garren draws his own wand. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Draco whips back. “ _Protego!_ ” he snaps.

Blue _Expelliarmus_ bounces off blue _Protego_.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Garren hisses. “ _Stupefy! Stupefy!_ ”

The second spell smashes Draco’s shield. Draco dodges with a swirl of his robes, and flicks, “ _Protego_ ,” to deflect the third.

Draco yawns. “Is that all? I recommend you take a refresher lesson with our Defence Professor.”

The scowl on Garren’s face deepens. He darts forward, wand jabbing.

“ _Bombarda! Reducto!_ ”

The wall next to Draco’s head explodes. Rubble tumbles, dust drifts, and portraits scream.

Draco slashes his wand, pushing all the dust down towards his feet. He strides lazily towards Garren, looking as though he’s floating above the cloudy dust.

“Destruction of the school? My, what a terrible example of a Hogwarts Professor…”

“How _dare_ you— _Impedimenta_! _Impedimenta! **Impedimenta**!_”

Draco slashes down, blue spell shields absorbing Garren’s attacks.

The portraits have fled towards the ends of the corridor. Other Slytherins have gathered along the corridor. And Aster and a number of others are watching from Severus’s office door.

Sweat beads on Garren’s forehead, his wand movements sharp and messy. His spells are in complete disregard for his environment; a statue fractures, the corner of a portrait frame starts to burn.

One of the Slytherin yelps when a spell narrowly misses them.

As Draco snaps out another shield, he knows that it’s only a matter when one of Garren’s spells lands on a bystander.

_I need to end this **now**_.

He presses forward, pushing his shields against the onslaught. Garren glares. 

Draco narrows his eyes, raises his wand. The problem with the Protego is that _he_ can’t cast through it. He’ll take the next spell, whatever it is.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

A beat later—“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” It shoots past the red stunner.

The stunner slams into his chest.

A moment later, Garren goes flying. His wand slaps into Draco’s free hand. Pain radiates across Draco’s chest, and for a beat, his heart stops. It starts again through the numbing cold of the stunner.

Drao takes a steadying breath, and smirks.

Garren’s stunner might have been stronger than the students’ he’d faced. But it’s not _nearly_ enough to take him down.

“ _Accio_ wand _!_ ” Garren tries. It doesn’t work. His desperation grows at each failed _Accio_.

Draco stalks forward, pointing at Garren with his own wand with his non-dominant hand. “Conceed.”

Garren scrambles to his feet. “As though my wand would ever work for _you_.”

“ _Lumos_ ,” Draco says coolly. His grip on Garren’s wand tightens, the tiny bite of claws. _Listen to me or I’ll crush you_. Garren’s wand sputters out some light that steadily brightens until Garren has to squint. “Think again, _sir_.”

Garren sneers. “My testimony against yours with the Aurors? The victor is clear.”

Draco smiles pitying at Garren. In Draco’s chest, he’s aware of all the bonds with his Slytherins. He knows all those who are watching their duel, including the portraits. If Garren is so willing to reveal how badly he failed, who is Draco to stop him?

The sound of running footsteps echoes down the corridor. “Malfoy! I saw all the commotion on the— _what_?”

Draco looks past Garren, smirking. “Perfect timing, _Harry_.”

Potter’s eyes widen as he takes in the carnage and destruction. “Professor?”

Garren’s head snaps to Potter. A twisted expression grows on Garren’s face as he attempts to neaten his robes. “Mr Potter,” he chokes out. He finally notices all the other students also watching them.

“I will compromise,” Draco drawls. “We duel again, and this time, _Harry_ will be our arbiter.”

“Wait, but I’m supposed to be your _second_ ,” Potter protests.

Garren’s expression darkens. “Tch.” He rights his clothing. “Give me back my wand, Malfoy. I haven’t time to play around with you.

“Harry? If you may.”

Potter steps gingerly to Draco’s side. Draco gives him Garren’s wand, and Potter then passes it back to Garren.

Garren draws to his full height, gaze narrow at all the students around him. “Don’t loiter in the corridors,” he says, and leaves without meeting Draco’s eyes again.

Draco stares down Garren’s receding back. _That’s right. Run away._ Garren was lucky Draco didn’t trash talk him and crush his self esteem even more.

The bonds in Draco’s chest all ease. Garren’s last hold on the Slytherins have dissipated in his utter defeat in Draco’s hands.

“Alright, Slytherins,” Draco raises his voice. “Go back from whence you came, unless you want to help me clean up.”

When none of the Slytherins move, Draco adds, “If you have an assignment due that you haven’t done, you’re _not_ allowed to help.”

With chastised expressions, almost all of the Slytherins leave. The ones heading back to the Slytherin Commons will tell Pansy and Blaise of what had happened.

“Malfoy...are you alright?” Potter hovers close to Draco.

“Yes.”

“He was hit!” Aster counters. “There are some healing potions left in the office, you stay there and don’t move!”

“No need, the pain is mostly gone. We’ll save it for the future.”

Aster raises an eyebrow. “So. You’re going to let me tell Pansy that you got hit in the chest by a stunner and just walked it off?”

Potter’s eyes widen, and he quickly nods in support with Aster. “Malfoy! Listen to Aster!”

Aster smirks. They head back into the office to look for some healing potions and quickly come out again. “Here!”

Draco uncorks the vial and drinks it in one go. The warmth of the potion spreads, completely eliminating the last traces of the stunner. Draco hands the empty vial back to Aster.

“Now back to _your_ work, Aster.”

“...What about Harry?”

“We both know that Harry won’t leave on his own volition.”

Both Draco and Aster look at Potter. Potter crosses his arms. “So what? Malfoy’s not the boss of me.”

“But he _is_ basically the boss of Slytherins,” Aster says. “Well, he _thinks_ he’s the boss.”

Draco glares at Aster, but Aster cheekily escapes. Huffing, Draco closes the door to Severus’s office and surveys the damage around them.

“I can’t believe you fought Garren without me…”

“It was a duel.” Draco turns. “Potter, you were part of the Hogwarts restoration team.”

“...So you’re back to calling me Potter again,” Potter grumbles.

Draco gives him a look. “We’re ex-arch-rivals. Do you _really_ wish me to call you by your given name? How intimate.”

“You call all the Slytherins by their given names!”

Draco’s gaze becomes complicated. Does Potter _feel_ like a Slytherin? He’s been sitting at the Slytherin table lately. He sleeps in the Slytherin dorms. He plays with the younger Slytherins.

...and he also ran to Draco just like the other Slytherins.

Inwardly, Draco sighs. “Well, I _did_ call them by their family names for a while first, Mr Potter.”

Potter pouts. “Don’t call me that, it makes me sound like I’m in trouble.”

“And you’re not in trouble?” Draco teases.

Potter buries a hand in his hair. “Eh, I don’t think so?” He freezes. “Oh shit.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth goes up. “Oh?”

Potter grimaces. “I left all my stuff in the Library with Hermione and Ron…”

Draco narrows his eyes. “Yes, how _did_ you know to come down here in such a hurry then?”

“Er, instinct?”

“You said you _saw_ it on something.”

Potter quickly turns towards a destroyed wall. “From what I remember...there are some special spells for fixing this. I’m pretty sure Hermione wrote them down…”

Draco sweeps away a large swathe of the rubble into a pile against the far wall as Potter mumbles. Draco walks over to the wall. All the intricate stonework, destroyed. He runs a finger across the edge of one crater.

Hogwarts’ magic hums under his fingertips. There’s a sensation of sliding, pulsing magic. Multicoloured lines and patterns of spells spread outward in Draco’s eyes from his fingers. He feels as though he should _know_ how to fix it.

“Hmm,” Potter is saying. He tries a couple of different charms at the walls.

But Draco’s only half listening. He can see the gaps in the spell weave. He can see the charred points, the wisping magic that has come untethered.

The scale of the damage is much, much greater than what Draco has faced before during his rounds with Blaise. But the details he can see are also sharper. As his fingers rest against Hogwarts, a plan to fix each part coalesces in his mind.

“Draco.” Blaise strides towards him, his robes flaring behind him. “Harry.”

“Zabini,” Potter greets.

“Do you want to help as well?” Blaise asks.

“Well, _yeah_.”

Blaise nods. “Then listen to Draco and myself.” Blaise’s eyes land meaningfully on Draco, and how Draco’s fingers rest against Hogwarts’ wall.

Draco nods slowly. “Yes, it’s like this...Potter, I need you to do this…”

Between the three of them, the corridor slowly returns to its original state. Rubble reforms back into the walls, dust clears from the air. Portraits are restored, their occupants returning.

And importantly, the underlying spell fabric is smooth once more.

Much like when Draco fixed the staircases weeks ago, there’s a low hum from the walls that slowly fades. The spell fabric fades in Draco’s vision, settling down. But it never quite disappears, shining in the corner of Draco’s eyes.

Towards the end of it, Potter has to stand aside, unable to see what Draco and Blaise could.

Draco turns to Potter now. “Potter, I’ll accompany you to the Library to retrieve your items. We need to talk about how you ran down here…”

Potter shakes his head. “No, I can go by myself—”

Both Draco and Blaise give Potter a look.

“...Then maybe Zabini can go with me?”

“If you wish,” Blaise says, smirking. “Draco, I think Harry likes me more now. Off you go.”

Draco scoffs. “Go, go,” he waves them off.

It’s obvious that Potter has more secrets. Does Potter somehow have a seeing mirror of some kind? Or surveillance charms down here that Draco doesn’t know about?

Draco watches Potter’s receding back until he and Blaise turn away. Potter being suspicious is no surprise. He heads back inside the potions laboratory.

*

In the evening, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise sit close together on their bed as Draco quietly relays what he told Pansy to Blaise as well.

“I see.” Blaise wraps an arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling us.”

“No need for thanks between friends,” Pansy says.

“...Shouldn’t...Shouldn’t that be _my_ line?” Draco says. His voice is annoyingly still a little shaky.

“It is something we can now factor in,” Blaise muses. “In conjunction with your victory over Garren.”

Pansy makes a grumpy expression. “I wish you told me though, Draco! I wanted to wipe that arsehole’s face too!”

“ _I_ didn’t know he was going to come at that time,” Draco mutters. “Life is hardly going to change. Garren wasn’t doing anything of particular importance.” Then, he turns his head towards the door on instinct. 

The door opens with a clatter as things fall from Potter’s hands. “—Urk. Sorry!” Potter slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Come and join us,” Pansy smirks, draping herself on Draco. “ _Harry~_ ”

Draco sighs in exasperation as he summons Potter’s dropped books. “Potter, don’t be so embarrassed,” he drawls. “You’ll see a lot more salacious things in the future.”

“Do I want to, though?” Potter mumbles. He grabs an armful of the now-floating books and dumps them on his desk.

Pansy laughs, sounding just a little evil. As always, she asks Potter, “So, want to sleep with us tonight?”

Potter looks away, clearing his throat. “Why do you keep on asking? I don’t want to hear Malfoy snore!”

“Don’t insult me, Potter,” Draco retorts playfully. “Wash up and go to bed, Potter.”

“Hm, Potter really _is_ the youngest of all of us, isn’t he?” Pansy muses.

Potter pulls a face. “Fine, fine, plot your evil schemes without me.”

Draco’s lips curve up. Teasing Potter always helps to raise the mood.

“What are you talking about? You’re the key star in our plans,” Pansy drawls. “Come, let Draco hug you.”

Potter’s ears redden. “What’s the occasion? I’m going to the bathroom!”

Draco nudges Pansy as Potter flees. “What was that? When did I offer to hug Potter?”

Blaise drawls, “Why are you complaining, Draco? Pansy is simply taking the initiative for you.”

“You two…” Draco is speechless about their contrived plot. Do they think it’s amusing to see him hug his ex-arch-nemesis? “Hug him yourself,” he retorts, and heads to the second bathroom to get ready for bed himself.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Garren** : You're going down! 
> 
> **Draco** : *coldly wipes the floor with Garren*
> 
> **Garren** : *coughs up blood in anger*
> 
> **Young Slytherins** : AWESOME!!!!!! AMAZING!!! SO COOL!!
> 
> **Aster** : Now, when Pansy hears about this...
> 
> **Draco** : … *can only bow down to Pansy*
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Pansy** : Sleep with us~
> 
> **Harry, thinking** : _Maybe I should, maybe I shouldn't, omg, thinking about being close to Draco, close to his body, head pats all night…_
> 
> Meanwhile, to outsiders: Harry appears to be getting redder and redder. He also starts hugging himself.
> 
> **Draco** : ...WTF is going on in Potter's head?


	15. Chapter 15

On Friday night, after curfew, Minerva McGonagall does a round of Hogwarts castle. As usual, she hustles a couple of students back to their Houses and pretends she believes their excuses of “I was just at the Library!”

There’s an unsettled feeling in her chest as she walks down the halls. Something has changed in Hogwarts, and it’s concentrated in the below-ground floors where Slytherin lies.

Hogwarts’ magic is still functional….but it’s different in a way Minerva cannot pin down.

***

Saturday morning opens with thick white snow that glitters outside Hogwarts’ windows. Many Slytherins look through the charmed window in the Commons with wistful eyes as they eat breakfast in the Commons.

“Work first,” Draco orders them, crossing his arms. “Unless you can confidently tell me that you’ve all finished your assignments for next week already?” He raises an eyebrow, even at the older Slytherins.

“But the other students get to go to Hogsmeade…” Jamie says piteously.

Felicity Shafiq smirks. “You’re only a year older than me, you can’t stop me.”

Draco’s suddenly faced with grievous younger Slytherins and rebellious older Slytherins. He turns to Pansy for some commiseration, but she’s clearly laughing inside. Meanwhile, Potter has an expectant look on his face, more than ready to have fun in the snow.

Draco sighs. “ _Fine_. One hour of work. Then we can all go and enjoy the snow.”

“Yes!” Jamie and a couple other boys cheer.

...Less than an hour later, the Slytherins are no longer working.

Pansy surveys the students and leans towards Draco. “Look at them, you can’t control them at all.”

“Don’t they want to do well in class? Don’t they want to achieve the best result?” Draco says.

Potter snorts. “Um, I think that’s just you and Hermione…”

Pansy laughs.

“I mean,” Potter continues, “If no one is studying, we may as well have fun now, right? Before lunch and before the Quidditch match later…”

Draco glares at the snickering Pansy. He taps a _sonorus_ on himself.

“Retrieve your winter cloaks, boats, hats, scarves and gloves.”

The other Slytherins immediately perk up and noise rises exponentially. Books and papers are abandoned on the various study tables as students rush up to their dormitory.

Soon, groups of students line up at the entrance. Draco checks over their outerwear and casts warming charms on their clothes before letting them leave the Slytherin Commons.

Draco, Potter, and Felicity are in the last group of Slytherins to head out. With _everyone_ going out, Draco and Felicity cast extra surveillance charms and wards around the Slytherin Dungeons before they leave.

This morning, there aren’t as many students at Hogwarts, as many of the older students have gone to Hogsmeade.

Slytherin House is able to claim expansive grounds outside Hogwarts Castle. All Draco needs to do is follow the sound of their bright voices and chatter that carries easily over the reflective snow.

Some students are throwing snowballs (Nolan and Harley), and other students are building snow sculptures (Michelle and Aster, and Jamie, poorly), and many others are taking the chance to stroll around outside.

In the fresh snow, they’re all carefree.

Potter looks at the playful scene with undisguised anticipation. “Malfoy, are we going to—”

“You can join Pansy to build snow sculptures if you wish,” Draco replies.

Potter makes a familiar stubborn expression. “Okay, if you’re not, then I’m not.”

Draco conjures up a sofa. After casting a warming charm, he sits down, arranging the fall of his robes neatly.

Potter’s lips quirk up. “Fancy,” he says, sitting next to him.

“I can’t say I’m enjoying your sticky behaviour,” Draco drawls. “Is this how you behave with your sidekicks? I’m surprised you’re not out at Hogsmeade with them.”

Potter’s expression falters. “I. Well. They’re having a date, because Hermione’s going to leave for Australia for the Winter break…”

_Winter Break_.

The reminder is a stone in Draco’s chest. 

“Oh, you aren’t in a threesome with Granger and Weasley?”

Potter nudges Draco in the shoulder. “You git! At least I don’t share a bed with Hermione and Ron. I should be asking whether you and Parkinson and Zabini are a threesome!”

Draco’s lips twitch. “Pansy and Blaise use me as a human heating charm,” he says drily.

Potter’s green eyes sparkle. “Somehow that sounds even more suspicious, Malfoy. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Is there something _you_ want to tell _me_?” Draco counters.

“Nope, definitely not in trouble this time…”

“As if I can believe you.”

Somehow, Draco’s able to spend the entire morning exchanging jibes with Potter. When lunch time arrives, everyone returns to the Slytherin Commons. Draco vanishes all the excess snow off his Slytherins before they can create puddles in the common room. After the chilly outside, the Slytherin Commons feels particularly cosy.

In the afternoon is the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Draco accompanies Potter, the Slytherin Quidditch team, and a number of Slytherin Quidditch fans to watch the match. In a close fight with scores neck-and-neck, Hufflepuff ultimately wins when their seeker swipes the snitch.

“That would be me,” Potter says mischievously, pointing at the winning Hufflepuff seeker.

Vaisey Owler laughs unrepentantly. “He got you there, Draco!”

Draco narrows his eyes. “Repeat that again.”

Vaisey slings an arm over Potter’s shoulder. “It’s a shame you didn’t become a Slytherin earlier, you could have been the Slytherin seeker and we could have benched Draco.”

“Well, Malfoy isn’t _that_ bad,” Potter says.

“Alright, enough excitement,” Draco says. He ushers everyone back to the castle.

*

At dinner, McGonagall announces Hufflepuff’s win. After allowing the Hufflepuff table to cheer, she then adds, “And Slytherin House keeps their win against Gryffindor.”

“All teams have been tested and careful investigations have been done. The Slytherin team did not cheat. Rather than blaming others, I suggest you take this as motivation to train hard, understood?”

Of course, no one dares to disagree in front of McGonagall’s face and the entire student body.

“Now, for some housekeeping. The Winter break begins next week. For students returning home, the carriages will leave Hogwarts at….” She goes through the Winter break procedures and finally finishes with a stern reminder: “And there will be _no_ dueling at Hogwarts without my permission.”

Multiple eyes flicker to Draco.

Draco looks at Garren instead at the Head Table. Garren, who isn’t quite meeting Draco’s eyes. _Heh_.

“That is all. Enjoy your dinner.”

As noise picks up in the Great Hall once more, Potter whispers to Draco, “Do you think she knows?”

“Know what?” Granger says, narrow-eyed.

“That we were thinking of establishing a private Slytherin dueling practice club, now that we have duelist extraordinaire, Harry Potter,” Draco lies.

Potter snorts and kicks Draco under the table.

Granger frowns. “You shouldn’t exclude other Houses like that.”

“Very well, we won’t establish a practice club,” Draco says. “How was your date with Weasley? Did you enjoy Madam Puddifoots?”

“Malfoy!” Potter protests. “Don’t ask them, I don’t want to hear. I can’t believe you do...”

“Oh? Are you sure? I was in fact asking her on your behalf…”

“You’re just trying to dig me into a pit!”

“I’m sure you’re well versed in digging your own holes…”

The two of them bicker, completely excluding Granger and Weasley from their conversation who are unable to keep up with Draco and Potter’s rhythm.

Unbeknownst to him, Pansy and Blaise exchange knowing smirks.

*

Warm fires burn merrily in the various fireplaces in Slytherin Commons. While most Slytherins relax after dinner, and Potter is off playing games with the younger Slytherins, Draco is drafting a letter to his mother.

... _Mother, I regret to inform you that I cannot return to the Manor for the Winter Break._

Now he needs to think of an excuse that isn’t the truth. Potter’s laugh catches Draco’s attention. The corner of Draco’s lip curls up. Potter’s never going to meet his mother, so it’s no problem if Draco writes as follows:

_...Of course you know of Harry Potter’s resorting to Slytherin House. Potter has decided to stay over during the Winter Break. As such, I must also stay back, lest Slytherin House is compromised…_

“Just _go_ ,” someone whispers.

“But—I don’t—he’s _busy_ —”

Draco sets his quill down and looks up to see two first years. Alyss Singh is pushing Francis Mallow forward.

“Francis,” Draco says, magically nudging the opposite chair back in invitation.

Francis climbs into the chair. “I...I don’t think I should go home.”

The Mallows are purebloods and were not directly involved in the War. At least, none of them were _caught_.

“Very well.”

“They don’t like me anyway,” Francis says, titling his chin up. “I’m a boy, and I’m going to be the first Mallow to become an Hitwizard.” But Francis doesn’t quite meet Draco’s eyes, instead glancing back to where Alyss is standing in support.

“But his parents want him to go back,” Alyss says, with a dark expression. “I bet they’re going to be mean, they’re not worthy to be parents!”

All of this is said quietly, but with a force Draco has not seen from Alyss before. Draco is a little proud of how Alyss has been able to hide her Slytherin tendencies till now.

“Francis, I’ll send your parents a letter, telling them that I have forced you to stay back,” Draco says.

“But what if they…”

“ _I_ will handle it.” Draco pulls out a new sheaf of parchment. “Now, I’m inclined to refer to you with your name, rather than your deadname.Advanced training... _dueling_ would be acceptable, under the tutelage of myself.” Strong script fills the parchment. He signs it with an extravagant signature, ending with _Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House, Hogwarts_. He hands the completed letter for Francis to verify.

Francis’ eyes go wide. “Thank you, sir.”

“If you have any problems, come to me, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Francis hands back the letter to Draco and he and Alyss walk back to Potter’s group.

_“FInished talking with Malfoy?”_ Potter’s asking.

_“Ready to play now??!!_ ” Jamie says happily.

_“Yeah...I’m going to stay back at Hogwarts for Yule!_ ”

_“Wait, didn’t your parents…_ ”

Draco’s lips quirk in faint amusement as some of them look Draco’s way.

Draco finishes off his letter to his mother. He seals this letter and his letter to the Mallows with his signet ring, imprinting an ornate _DM_.

Then, after the young Slytherins plus Potter finish their game, they come flooding over to Draco.

“Can I also stay back at Hogwarts?” Nolan says. “My father is _prick_ —”

“Yes.” Draco records down the names of the students who do not want to return to their parents or relatives for the Winter Break and assures all of them that he’ll personally write a letter.

Eventually, Potter is the only one remaining, sitting poorly in his seat.

“Potter, do you need me to write a letter to your parents, Granger and Weasley?”

Potter immediately sits up. “Malfoy!”

“Heh.”

“If you’re staying back, then I’m staying back too. Just in case you get into another duel without me.”

“I’m sure the Weasleys will still adore you, Potter.”

Surprisingly, Potter’s face _falls_. “No...I don’t think I should go back. They’re still mourning…”

It takes a moment for Draco to switch to the topic that Potter has jumped to.

“And you’re not? And here I thought the Weasleys adopted you as a son already...”

Potter smiles weakly. “If they did, you’ll have to call me ‘Weasley’ instead of Potter.”

Draco makes a face. “Please, no. Please do not marry into the Weasley family, I beg you.”

“Hm, then what family _should_ I get married into?” Potter says. “Do you also arrange marriages for the Slytherins too?”

“No, absolutely not!”

Potter laughs, eyes curving in humour. “No that’s right, you’re going to have a threesome marriage with Zabini and Parkinson…”

Draco rolls his eyes. “And Granger and Weasley will never let you marry anyone because no one is good enough for you.”

“Hehe, you think that I’m the best then?”

“No, _I’m_ the best.”

“No, no, you definitely said that I was…”

“I was merely speaking from Granger’s point of view...”

Potter snickers, his sadness from before completely gone.

***

No Slytherin speaks to outsiders about Draco’s duel with Garren. But the _portraits_ do. This gossip, being much more interesting then yet another pair of students ‘secretly’ kissing in the corridors, spreads through the castle’s portraits.

And the particularly gossipy portraits gossip to the living inhabitants of the castle. By Sunday afternoon, the news has reached the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

“You mean the corridor outside Severus’ old office was destroyed??” Minerva says, aghast. After confirming this with the portrait, she rushes to the corridor.

To the naked eye, it looks as pristine as usual—she definitely had not noticed anything odd here last time she patrolled this area.

“Yes, it was the new Potions Professor and Draco Malfoy,” one of the portraits in the corridor says. “We saw Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini fix up the corridor. Good as new!”

Minerva’s eyes narrow as she examines the magical fabric of the corridor. There are no errors...but the _nuance_ in the magic has changed.

It must be the magical signatures of those three.

Seeing the ordinary corridor makes Minerva annoyed. Sure, they cleaned up the scene of the crime. But that doesn’t negate the fact that Mr Malfoy disobeyed her orders. And that even _Richard Garren_ had _fought with a student!_

Richard Garren was ‘recommended’ by the Ministry, and Minerva is well aware that Richard’s second role is to monitor Draco Malfoy in place of a parole Auror that MInerva will absolutely not allow.

Yet, for Richard to incite a student like that…!

If she punishes Draco Malfoy, then she would have to punish Richard Garren as well.

Minerva rubs her temples as she thinks of all the Ministry’s papers and letters on her desk, all the things she’s stopping them from implementing at Hogwarts.

Minerva decides to keep quiet for now. She’ll deal with it when Richard decides to tell the Ministry that he dueled a student who was supposed to be under his care.

And when she sees Richard’s bowed head, guilty posture, at dinner, there is the tiniest spark of joy in Minerva’s heart.

*

Harry feels a little nervous as his private potions session with Malfoy approaches. He’s confused when Malfoy leads him _out_ of the Slytherin Dungeons.

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, Potter.”

Harry soon recognises the corridor where Malfoy had been dueling with Garren the other night.

Malfoy stops outside a door that is extremely familiar to Harry.

Snape’s office.

Memories about Aster and Slytherins going in and out of the office percolate in Harry’s mind. _Surely not..._

Malfoy opens the office door and ushers Harry inside.

The inside is Snape’s office.

Harry’s stomach twists. _This_ place, the place where he suffered through Snape’s useless Occlumency lessons. The place where Snape invaded Harry’s mind, again and again.

This place…

...has changed.

There is bright lightning, new soft and inviting sofas, and a little coffee/tea/hot-chocolate table. There are books and a scattered pile of old badges. There’s a warm fire burning at the fireplace.

“I hope you understand to keep this a secret from Granger and Weasley,” Malfoy says.

“Yeah...”

Malfoy’s hand presses Harry’s back lightly, nudging him forwards and into the attached potions laboratory.

“Hello, Draco,” Aster says, briefly looking up from their potions.

A couple of other sixth and seventh year Slytherins in the room also give them greeting nods.

... _Oh_.

Harry thought it would be a private lesson, but they aren’t alone. He stamps down the feeling of disappointment. At least this way, Malfoy _might_ think twice before offing Harry, right? 

“This...using Snape’s own old office for your own purposes…” Harry says. He’s a little impressed, actually. He takes a peak at one of the lab benches. “And so this is where you make those badges…”

“You’re not helping until I certify your ability,” Malfoy says.

Harry pouts. “Aww, c’mon, Malfoy, I was really good in sixth year…”

Malfoy inexplicably freezes for a tiny moment. “...Don’t act so spoiled,” he grumbles. “Now.” He levitates up their NEWTs potion book. “It’s very likely that we’ll look at one of these two potions tomorrow, so _you_ will do one of each tonight.”

“Okay.”

Harry asked for this. He’s _not_ going to back down. He retrieves a cauldron and ingredients and begins working under Malfoy’s picky eyes.

“Like this?” Harry asks more than once.

“...Acceptable.”

“Passable.”

“No, no, do you want to make an explosive??!!”

Malfoy’s hand immediately covers Harry’s, stopping his cutting motions. “Look closely, Potter,” he says. He takes the knife and demonstrates a tiny mince of the ingredients.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry says. He copies Malfoy’s actions.

“Passable.”

“Okay, how about this— _ow!_ ” As Harry looks up to ask Malfoy, the knife glances off the ingredient and cuts into his finger.

Harry quickly drops the knife and moves his hand away lest the blood contaminates the ingredients.

The cut is disappearing right before Harry’s eyes, as though someone is casting an _Episkey_ on it.

Harry looks up at Malfoy. “Is there some weird healing charm here?”

Malfoy says airly, “You could say that.”

Harry frowns. “Really? _Really?_ ”

“No, I’m simply very good at a wordless, wandless _Episkey_.”

“Oh.”

The implications of the amount of practice Malfoy had to in order to perfect such a thing…

Malfoy raps him on the head. “Hello, any Potter in here? I sincerely hope you’ll be able to focus in class.”

“Okay, okay.” Harry gets a new knife and continues his potion.

“Hey Draco, take a look at this?” Aster calls out.

“I’m quite unsure if I should take my eye off Potter.”

“Go, go,” Harry says. He nudges Malfoy with his foot.

“Heh.” Malfoy steps over to Aster, both of them looking at Aster’s notes and chatting quietly. Malfoy has a serious expression, his voice low and comforting.

The other Slytherins also occasionally talk quietly to each other, asking for second opinions and speaking about potions brewing. It’s a harmonious environment without the pressure of the Potions classroom.

Harry quickly looks back down at his potion when Malfoy starts turning his way.

“Hm, not bad,” Malfoy looks over Harry’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” Harry shakes off the tingling feeling. “I should have recorded that. Draco Malfoy thinks my _potion_ is not that bad.”

“You make _potion_ sound obscene.”

Harry smirks. “What are you talking about? _You_ are the one who said that first.”

Malfoy scoffs and taps Harry on the head. “Stop procrastinating. Look at that potion colour, it’s time for the next step.”

Harry rubs his head and pushes Malfoy back. “Yes, yes, stop standing so close to me.”

“Oh? Like this?” Malfoy leans in, his front to Harry’s back.

Harry raises his elbow in threat.

Malfoy smirks. “Violent, I approve.” He takes a seat on the tall stool to Harry’s side instead. “Now carry on.”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry’s lips twitch in amusement.

*

Aster meets Felicity’s eye across the potions laboratory. _Did you see that?_ they’re both thinking.

_Ah, forget it_. Aster’s not going to get involved, thanks.

***

The next morning...

_“I heard from Laura who heard from the Fat Lady that Malfoy fought with Garren!_ ”

_“Who won???”_

_“Apparently Potter showed up…”_

This is the latest gossip among the hoi polloi of Hogwarts when Draco sits down for breakfast.

Draco meets Pansy’s eyes. “Took them long enough.”

Pansy drawls back, “You’re narcissistic, I get it.”

“Someone should take a picture of Garren for posterity.”

“I still can’t believe you dueled him,” Potter says. “And without me around too!”

However, Granger, who is also sitting at the Slytherin table with Potter as she does these days, is not impressed.

“This is your fault for inciting duels in the first place!” she reprimands. “Who drew their wand first? Who cast the first spell?! I don’t believe these rumours.”

“Speaking of duels, I haven’t received any duelling requests lately,” Draco says.

“That’s because of Harry,” Pansy says. “Seeing _the_ Harry Potter as your second scares the poor little students.”

“...You mean they’re scared of Potter instead of being scared of _me?_ ”

Potter grins. “Yeah? So I helped you avoid duels then?”

Granger is dismayed. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding us lately? You shouldn’t have agreed to be his second in the first place!”

Pansy replies calmly, “Is there anything wrong with students dueling Draco instead of, say, cute little Alyss?”

Granger flushes, looking at Pansy in a new, unfavourable light. “Is that so? You _say_ Slytherins are getting bullied. Then you should have gone to Garren or McGonagall!”

The moment Granger suggests Garren, Draco’s set against her. “Oh, and _you_ always went to the professors when encountering difficulties?” Draco says coolly.

“It’s not the _same!_ ”

“It’s never the same.”

Granger’s eyes darken. “You’re right, it’s not the same. Purebloods getting bullied is not the same as muggleborns getting bullied. The inherent power structures are different, carry a different weight. The _laws_ are behind you. And inciting violence sets _everyone_ back.”

Pansy leans forward. “Then _do_ propose a method that agrees with _you_ , dear Granger.”

“The problem is the lack of inter-house unity and ignorance. Clearly, everyone needs to take an expanded form of Muggle Studies together, so that everyone can realise we’re all humans at the end of the day.”

“But we’re not all human,” Draco says coldly. “I never knew you disliked Professor Flitwick and Hagrid that much.”

“You—I meant _beings_!” Granger scowls. “And you know what? Maybe you _deserve_ it. Sure, all the Slytherins here _aren’t_ in Azkaban. But did you ever apologise? Did any of the Inquisitor Squad ever apologise? _So_ many of you tortured the other students. Tortured _us_. With the Cruciatus Curse! With—with _more_. In _your very house,_ Malfoy!”

“Words are like empty air that dissipate with the wind,” Draco finally says, slow and measured. “Apologies won’t bring back the dead. Apologies won’t end the pain. Apologies don’t clear away memories. But if you want empty air, then I’ll give it to you.”

Draco meets Granger’s gaze dead on. “I apologise, Granger, for all my past misendeavours against you. You deserved better.” He turned to Weasley. “I apologise, Weasley, for all my past taunts against you. Your family is not a weakness but a strength.” And finally, he turned to Potter. “I apologise, Potter. I blamed you for my own failings, when in fact you truly are a great wizard.”

Granger flushes. “You didn’t _mean_ it.”

“It is my responsibility to keep every Slytherin safe,” Draco says.

Granger scoffs. “As if you care—”

“If apologising will do so, then I will get down and prostrate. What counts as an apology? Should I get down and grovel? Should I appear _meek_ and _sincere_? Should I give you half of my Gringotts vault?”

Granger fumes. “Are you _hearing this_ , Harry?”

Potter looks uneasy. “Yeah…”

“Being silent is being on the side of the oppressors,” Granger says coldly.

“You’ll either have to use Legilimency or Veritaserum to determine whether or not someone is sincere, Granger. Or you’ll just have to accept that our _actions_ are enough.”

“I _would_ apologise to Harry for suggesting we give him up to Voldemort,” Pansy jumps in. “Except I’m not. Because it _was_ the right thing, to give him up—one person—for the survival of everyone else.”

“I thought you two were _friends_ now,” Granger says, looking at Pansy, betrayed. “How could you still say that. You can’t _weigh_ lives like pieces of brick.”

“Except you _can_ ,” Pansy says coolly. “And after all, Harry himself up regardless. You’re suggesting we sacrifice many lives for one...is that not selfish?”

“No, I understand,” Draco says. “It’s easier to sacrifice people who aren’t _your people_. How Slytherin, Granger.”

Potter’s shoulders slump. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I would have given myself up earlier if I had known. If it would have saved more people...”

Granger’s brows draw up in despair. “ _Harry_ —”

Blaise sighs. “Hermione. Pansy. _Draco_.”

Everyone shuts up.

“We all have different philosophies. Hermione, we’re sorry that we treated you differently: your muggleborn nature does not affect your abilities as a witch, and we were illogical to think so. I understand you’re frustrated with how Draco has dealt with things. You’re not alone in feeling this. I also occasionally need to remind Draco of propriety. There is a cultural difference between us. We both have to meet half-way.”

Granger settles down somewhat, but she’s still ruffled. She still hates Draco.

Draco doesn’t even care, and he doesn’t care that he doesn’t care. 

He keeps silent as Blaise changes the topic.

The only feeling of pain occurs when Draco sees Potter’s downcast expression. The pain that Draco can feel through the thin, thin bond between them.

Is Potter remembering all the bad blood between them? Is he now regretting becoming a Slytherin?

Is Potter going to leave Draco?

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has snowed! Draco is faced with cute and rebellious Slytherins. ~~The parent~~ Draco has to worry about study schedules and warm clothes and the kids just want to play.
> 
> **Draco & Harry**: *bickering like an old married couple*
> 
> **Aster** : ....
> 
> **Pansy** : Heh.
> 
> **Blaise** : Of course.
> 
> **Every Slytherin** : *nods knowingly*
> 
> **Ron & Hermione**: …. (but in an annoyed, suspicious-of-Malfoy kind of way)
> 
> Oh yeah, Draco probably went to see the thestrals over the weekend, but like since it's not important to the plot right now I haven't shown it here~ 😂
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry** : ...where's my private potions lesson??? Why didn't Malfoy hug me and cover my hand with his and showed me how to cut potions ingredients???
> 
> **Draco** : What are you nattering about? *rubs Harry's head*
> 
> **Harry** : ... 😇😇😇


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise (shortish) Wednesday update!

In Double Potions class, the NEWTs students individually make a potion. Harry has hardly any trouble because Malfoy was right in what he had Harry practice the night before.

Though it’s still a surprise that Harry is able to successfully make it given the number of times he glances at Malfoy, who’s working on the lab bench right next to him.

Harry doesn’t know what to do.

Class ends and Harry hands his potion to the fake-faced Professor Garren.

“Harry, come sit with us for lunch,” Hermione catches him.

“No, I don’t want to go to the Great Hall.” Harry shakes her off and hurries out.

Hermione hates it whenever he mentions how he needed to die, even if it’s the truth. In this matter, Harry would side with Parkinson. If his death would bring back all the people who had unfairly died during the War, Harry would do it in a heartbeat.

But that’s not possible. Not even with the Resurrection Ring. 

He’s able to lose Hermione in the crowd of students, and soon he reaches the empty corridors, climbing up to the Astronomy Tower.

Yet, there are other familiar footsteps following him.

Harry doesn’t turn around. Instead, he looks out the window. Across the white snow, the grey skies.

“Potter, have you forgotten to take someone with you?” Malfoy says darkly. “Are you _asking_ to be attacked?”

“If I gave myself up earlier, would fewer people have died?” Harry says abruptly. “I needed to die. It had to happen.”

Malfoy’s footsteps stop a few feet away from Harry. A moment later, a warming charm blossoms, warding off the cold chill from the window.

“Who knows,” Malfoy finally says. “Would you like us to conduct a counter-events divination?”

Harry’s eyelids lower. “It’s different for me. It’s different for Hermione. It’s different for you. About what Hermione said…”

“As both a Slytherin and a friend to Granger, I understand that your allegiances can be at odds.”

Harry’s lips twist wryly. “Allegiances?” He turns around to face Malfoy. “You’re my friend. But…” He twists a fist into his own robes. “You wanted to kick out Muggleborns. My mum is a muggleborn. I was _raised_ a muggleborn.”

“I’m not kicking you out.” Malfoy’s face is shadowed. “If you leave Slytherin, then it will be due to your own initiative.”

“That’s because I’m Harry Potter, right? Once everyone hears my name, they forget that I’m a halfblood. People forget that Voldemort was a halfblood too.” Harry scoffs at the irony.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I donated to the War Orphan’s fund. Can you match that?”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

“...You’re not asking more of me?”

“Surprise me pleasantly, Malfoy,” Harry says.

Their eyes meet and hold. Malfoy’s grey eyes seem to be looking deep into Harry. Harry looks back, unafraid. What he wants most is for all his friends to get along.

Slowly, Malfoy smirks. “Oh? Brave words, Potter.”

Harry smiles. “I’m not scared. Just...be nicer to Hermione, okay?”

“Only for you—”

“—the Great Harry Potter—”

“—my esteemed ex-nemesis.”

Harry snickers. “Okay, that’s good too.”

Malfoy’s lips twitch. He sweeps a hand towards the exit. “Now, shall we return to the Great Hall for lunch? Or I can call some house-elves to provide us with a meal here.”

“Here,” Harry decides.

Malfoy’s eyes brighten. “So you enjoy my company.”

“I could say the same about you,” Harry returns. He attempts to conjure up a table and some chairs while Malfoy calls a house-elf to bring them some lunch.

Malfoy fixes his conjuration with a roll of his eyes. “Enough Potions tutoring, I need to find you a Transfiguration tutor,” he mutters.

“No, please no, Malfoy!”

“Oh dear Potter, you forget how much I like to see you suffer.”

“What if _you_ were my Transfiguration tutor? Then I can make you suffer alongside me.”

“...Shut up and eat, Potter. We need to escort the third years.”

“Weak, Malfoy, weak. Hiding behind the third years like that...”

“Nolan can take you on by himself.”

“...He has an unreasonable level of admiration for you, how is that fair…”

*

That evening, Malfoy hands Harry a letter the moment they all return to the Slytherin Commons.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, even as he unfolds the letter.

“My anonymous donation to the War Orphans Fund.”

Harry’s head rises quickly. “That was quick.”

“Are you accusing me of inefficiency?”

“Ah, well...Didn’t Slytherins invent bureaucracy? That’s totally you people, right?”

“Blame the Ravenclaws, Potter.”

“No, but I like Luna…”

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, I thought you dated her.”

Harry blinks. “Er, what? She’s my friend, why would I…”

Parkinson pops up out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around Harry’s and Malfoy’s necks. “Very good. Draco’s blonder than Lovegood, anyway.”

Malfoy shoves Parkinson off, such that she ends up draping around Harry. Harry blushes and quickly extricates himself from Parkinson.

Parkinson pouts. “I can’t believe neither of you like me. Hmpf, I’m off to have fun with Felicity then.”

Harry glances at Malfoy and they both have amused expressions.

“...Mr Malfoy!!” Nolan dashes up to them, almost colliding with Malfoy. He shoots a brief _eh_ look at Harry before turning big eyes to Malfoy. “Did my stupid father reply yet? Can you take a look at my potions assignment, can you…”

Harry’s smile unconsciously softens. No, he has no intention of leaving Slytherin.

***

Hermione feels like the world is against her.

Look at how Harry so quickly returns to Malfoy’s side.

Even before the War, Harry was unreasonably obsessed with Malfoy, prioritising him over Hermione and Ron. And now, Harry’s doing that again.

Harry seems to believe that Malfoy has changed. And on the surface, Hermione can see that too. But she doesn’t believe Malfoy’s core has changed. If she _could_ use Legilimency, then she’s more than willing to use it on Malfoy to figure out the truth.

Instead, she has to sit at the Slytherin table for dinner, for breakfast, for lunch again, keeping her words to herself, and watching Harry’s bright eyes towards Malfoy.

She can’t stand it.

When class ends on Tuesday, Hermione drags Ron over to Harry.

“Come sit with us at the Gryffindor table,” Hermione says, “You haven’t spoken to Ginny and the others for a while, right?”

Harry automatically looks to Malfoy, who’s packing up his books.

Malfoy’s lips twitch. “Go ahead, Potter. We can have you all night long, after all.”

“Okay,” Harry says to Hermione.

Hermione huffs. _He has to get permission from Malfoy? Really? **Really?** _She loops her arm possessively around Harry and pulls him and Ron out first.

“Harry...How can you feel safe being with those Slytherins? If it was just a _year_ ago, they would have...”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s not that simple…”

“Did you _ask_?”

“Malfoy donated to some charities for me. It sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it?” Harry sighs. “Hermione...look, I know that maybe you don’t like his reasons, but the actions still hold, don’t they?”

“Money is money,” Ron says.

Hermione shuts her mouth, her heart aching. Harry thinks he can see Malfoy’s side...but then why can’t he see _Hermione’s_ side?

At the Gryffindor table that dinner, Ginny is next to Luna, and Neville is there too.

“Hey, Harry,” Ginny greets. “You didn’t play Quidditch with us this weekend! What gives??”

Harry blinks. “Oh. We had a snow day.”

“Oh yes,” Luna says, “I saw the snow sculptures on the lawn. Very artistic.”

“Yeah! Malfoy even gave everyone personal warming charms,” Harry laughs.

“How is Slytherin House, Harry?” Neville asks. “If you have any problems, just give me the Sorting Hat…”

Harry waves him off. “It’s good, we have the _best_ hot chocolate, Malfoy makes it for us, can you believe it? And study time is structured too. Malfoy and Parkinson have set up this system where the older students tutor the younger students. Some of the younger students are trying to teach me sign language too...”

Hermione’s lips twist bitterly. “And so that’s how the young students learn the traditions of the older students, and the cycle continues…”

Luna tilts her head. “Hermione, do you want to learn some wizarding traditions? If you do, you should ask Neville.”

“Yeah,” Ron pipes in. “You know me and my family sort of...forgot a lot of the old traditions, but Neville’s grandmother knows them, right?”

“It’s—oh, forget it,” Hermione’s lips tighten. “You don’t take me seriously at all.” _You don’t understand_. She exhales heavily and pulls herself together, putting a wane smile on her face.

Harry looks guilty. “I’m sorry, Hermione…”

“No, you, don’t be sorry. But I’m not sitting at the Slytherin table anymore. Looking at Malfoy’s face...makes me want to punch him.”

Ron laughs. “Oh yeah, if you do, make sure I’m around too.”

“In that case, I’ll sit at the Slytherin table with you, Harry,” Luna says brightly. “Ginny, you don’t have to come if you’re not comfortable.”

“As if I’ll let you go alone with those snakes,” Ginny says with a roll of her eyes. At the same time, she’s putting some slices of fruit on Luna’s plate.

“I’m one of those snakes!” Harry says in mock-indignation. “Not to mention I’m a parseltongue too!”

“Well, Harry, you know I love you regardless,” Luna says.

Harry smiles bashfully. “Thanks, Luna.”

“But tell me, Harry,” Hermione says, “Why did Malfoy duel Professor Garren?”

“I don’t know why,” Harry says slowly. “But I know that Malfoy didn’t cast the first spell. Garren wasn’t even injured...only Malfoy was.”

“So it wasn’t because Garren’s a muggleborn?”

“I think it’s more because Garren’s the most absent Head of House. I literally never see him around.” Harry says. “Did you know that Malfoy makes these protective badges for everyone to wear? Did you forget when someone sabotaged the stairs to make Aster fall?”

Hermione doesn’t know the name ‘Aster’, but she does remember the face of the student that fell down the Hogwarts staircase.

That...that _is_ something unacceptable. The perpetrators have still not been found.

“Garren didn’t care about it at all! Even Sprout cared more. Don’t you remember how Garren wanted to give Malfoy and the others _detention_ for running out to save Aster?”

Hermione’s eyes lower.

If that was someone from Gryffindor who fell...If it had been a Slytherin who had sabotaged the staircase...

Fine, maybe Malfoy had some truthful points.

Hermione glances sidelong at Harry, who is whole and well and chatting with Neville about the underwater plants he can see from Slytherin’s Common Room.

On the surface, being in this new Slytherin House has been good for him.

But that doesn’t mean Hermione’s willing to let Malfoy off the hook. If he does anything wrong, she’ll catch him.

***

On Wednesday morning, Draco gets a shock when Lovegood and Ginevra Weasley come to the Slytherin table.

“Draco,” Lovegood greets with a warm smile.

“...Who said you could call me by my name?”

“Cousin?”

“...Draco is fine,” Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. “What brings you here?”

“Wait!” Potter drops his cutlery. “The important thing is...you’re cousins?!”

“Most purebloods are related somehow,” Ginevra says with a roll of her eyes.

(Draco can’t think of her as Weasley because, _shudder_ , Ronald Weasley.)

Potter turns wide eyes at Draco. “...Are we related?”

“Don’t worry,” Pansy says comfortingly. “Your hypothetical children will be fine.”

“ _Pansy!_ ” Draco says warningly.

“Oh, yes, Malfoy, watch out for fists in your near future,” Ginevra says, her eyes glinting.

Draco meets her gaze unflinchingly. “I’d like to see anyone try.”

“No one is punching Malfoy,” Potter interrupts. “Not while I’m around.”

_I believe that’s the other way around_ , Draco thinks. “Potter, don’t just eat bacon for breakfast. You’re setting a bad example.”

Potter pouts. “Yeah, yeah. Just because you’re two months older than me doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”

“Did I mention our age gap? Have a complex about it, do you?”

Ginevra’s eyes jump between Draco and Potter. She raises an eyebrow. “Huh.”

Lovegood smiles serenely. “They’re a good match,” she says to Ginevra.

Draco’s gaze cuts to Lovegood. “ _Match_? If anything...are you marrying Ginevra?”

Ginevra’s cheeks redden. “Shut your mouth, Malfoy!”

“Don’t invite me to the wedding, or us Malfoys will duel with all the Weasleys. The Weasleys will be humiliated.”

Ginevra looks like she’s going to stand up and attempt to punch Draco from across the table. She stops though when Lovegood wraps a hand around her arm.

_Oh? Can Lovegood control Ginevra so easily..._

Ginevra huffs and sits properly again. “I still think you Slytherins suck. If y _ou_ were the ones being tortured, you would have screamed so much more.”

“Oh, how naive of you to think our curses had anything equal to the Dark Lord’s…”

“Yeah? It certainly felt like you hated us.”

“We all did what we needed to do to survive. I recall your guerilla group didn’t hold back, either.”

“Well, I still hate you.”

“Agreed.”

“Good, we agree. Luna, do you want this pastry? It looks fancy as fuck.”

“Oh, thank you, Ginny.”

Potter tilts his head in confusion. “Okay…”

_Poor confused Potter_ , Draco thinks fondly. “Potter, enemies in the open are easier to deal with than enemies in the dark. If Ginevra and I ever duel, you can be my second.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Ginevra protests. “I used to date Harry. He should be _my_ second.”

“He’s _my_ Slytherin now, Potter’s _my_ second.”

Lovegood pats Harry on the arm. “How does it feel to be caught between Ginny and Draco?”

Potter’s expression is bewildered. “I don’t know…”

Pansy bursts out laughing. “Lovegood, I like you.”

“Stay away from my girlfriend,” Ginevra wraps an arm around Lovegood.

Draco’s lips twitch.

If Granger and Weasley are Potter’s overprotective parents, then Ginevra and Lovegood are like the annoying cousins of the same generation. (Except for when Lovegood makes odd older-generation-y comments.)

In the privacy of Draco’s mind, he’s allowed to much prefer Lovegood and Ginevra at the Slytherin table than to Granger and Weasley. At least Lovegood and Ginevra don’t look at Draco as though he’s trying to steal their precious child.

Meanwhile, Pansy is smirking. “Very well, I’ll just date your ex-boyfriend instead, isn’t that right, Harry? Come to this side of the table, sit with me…”

Potter has an embarrassed smile. “Maybe you can all date each other? Threesome?”

Pansy cackles. “HAH! Sorry not sorry Draco, but I love Harry more than you!”

Draco snorts. “Then you can sleep in his bed then and don’t think about returning to mine.”

“Nooooo.” Pansy drapes herself on Draco’s shoulder. “Aren’t we the best childhood friends?”

“Careful, there are children watching,” Draco looks pointedly at Potter, Lovegood, and Ginevra.

Ginevra predictably protests, and Lovegood smiles warmly.

***

Pansy catches a Slytherin beaming in the Common Room.

“What’s got you so happy, Francis?” she asks.

“I don’t have to go home this Winter Break!” Francis says happily. He shows Pansy the letter has been clutching to his chest.

_Dear Mr Malfoy, In accordance with your previous letter…_

Pansy skims through the letter and hands it back to Francis. “...What did Draco do?”

Francis smirks. “He wrote a letter to my parents saying that he’s staying back to teach us advanced dueling. Non-negotiable.” 

_Staying back, is he? Now, why hasn’t Draco told her yet, the bastard..._

Francis grins. “It’s a big relief.” His expression becomes tentative. “Um...about the potions?”

Pansy immediately understands. “In this matter, I’ve already coordinated with Madame Pomfrey, she’s safe, understood? Winter Break would be the perfect time to start.”

Francis’ smile grows even brighter and he dashes off to find Alyss.

As for that not-telling-Pansy-bastard Draco…That night, Pansy gets into bed and traps Draco under her.

“Why did you tell me you were staying back?!”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “I thought you knew. Losing your touch, I see.”

“I thought Narcissa would never let you stay back in the castle over Yule! I didn’t think you would dare refute her.”

“I can’t leave the Slytherins here without me.”

“Eh, you think so highly of yourself.” Pansy flops down, accidentally-not-accidentally hitting Draco in the gut. “If you’re staying, then so am I,” Pansy says. “I’m _not_ going to return and find you lying in a pool of blood.”

Blaise laughs as he slides into bed with them. “I suppose I must stay too then, lest Draco commits another faux-pas.”

From the other bed, Potter adds, “I’m staying too, lest Malfoy duels again without me.”

Draco grumbles. “Go to sleep, you bastards. We have another test tomorrow. And Pansy and Blaise, stop corrupting Potter.”

Pansy whispers into Draco’s ear. “I think he wants to be corrupted.”

Draco pointedly rolls away from her in the bed and sides with Blaise instead.

Maybe Draco and Potter haven’t...fully undergone puberty yet? Pansy laughs to herself. As she snuggles up with Draco again, she feels glad that Potter decided to join Slytherin.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to the people who do like Hermione...she and Ron have been downgraded to cannon fodder 😅😅😅....
> 
> Also, I hope you can tell that Luna is one of my favourite characters.
> 
> **Draco & Harry**: *have lunch together in the hook-up hot spot, the Astronomy tower*
> 
> **Draco & Harry**: *constantly checking in with each other*
> 
> **Draco & Harry**: *smiles together*
> 
> **Slytherins** : ... Are you *sure* they're not dating???
> 
> If you like Harry and Draco dating without realising it, I recommend my fic [**Every Leaf That Unfurls, Every Petal That Blooms !!**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101133)
> 
> **Ginny** : I hate you.
> 
> **Draco** : I hate you too.
> 
> **Ginny** : Great, let's shake hands.
> 
> **Draco** : Done.
> 
> **Harry:** ????? (Is my arch-nemesis position being taken over by Ginny???????)
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Harry:** *dreamy eyes and dreamy smile at Draco, all day, every day*
> 
> **Draco** : *thinking* _fuck, he’s so adorable. so cute. it’s illegal!!_ *rubs Harry’s hair*
> 
> **Harry** : 🥰🥰🥰
> 
> **Draco** : ...what is this weird feeling I’m feeling…
> 
> **Pansy** : *muttering to herself* Now I just need to figure out how to shut them in a closet together, or make them sleep in one bed, or trigger Draco’s veelaness or something...hmmmmm…...Ψ(￣∀￣)Ψ


	17. Chapter 17

The rest of the week passes smoothly, and the tension breaks on Friday afternoon as students go into Winter Break mode.

On Saturday morning, lazy snowflakes drift down from the sky.

Draco gets up early to see the few Slytherins who are heading home for their Winter Break. He hands them two new protective badges. He also pats the thestrals pulling the carriages.

“Ay! Don’t worry about the little ones!” Hagrid says loudly when he sees Draco. “Got some big ones looking after them in the Forest.”

“I know.” Not all the carriages are being used, so only a smaller crew of thestrals are required today.

Draco gives the thestrals a final pat, and Hagrid sends the carriages off.

The tightness in Draco’s chest intensifies as the carriages move further and further away. But the connections hold, for now.

Draco turns to the handful of Slytherins who also came out to see off their friends. Most of them are ready to return to the Castle...except for Potter.

“No, I’m _not_ going. Didn’t I already tell you this?” Potter’s voice rises as he steps back from Granger and Weasley. “Just go, before you miss the last carriage!”

“Do you really intend to stay here with _Malfoy_?” Granger frowns. “But the Weasleys...you have Christmas with them every year.

“I _told_ you.”

“I thought you were joking,” Granger admits. “I know you’re feeling awkward, but even _I’m_ going to drop by the Burrow after I get back from Australia, and I’m not blood-family. Harry, please. You’ll feel better once you’re there—”

Draco strides over, wrapping a protective arm over Potter’s shoulder. “Granger, need I remind you that Harry is now an _adult_?”

Granger’s mouth clicks shut, her jaw hard.

Weasley’s mouth turns down. He crosses his arms, bearing his full height against Draco. _Tch_ , he’s one of the few people whose height matches Draco’s. 

“If anything happens to Harry, you’ll regret it, Malfoy.”

“Those would be _my_ words if you forced Potter to leave. While Potter remains at Hogwarts, I can ensure his safety.”

Granger’s eyes burn at where Draco has his arm around Potter. “Have a good Christmas, Harry,” she finally forces out.

Hagrid calls for the last of the students, and the two of them reluctantly go. The final thestral-pulled carriage departs.

Potter sighs heavily, eyes sliding away from where the carriage disappeared into the distance.

“...Do you wish to spend the Winter Break with the Weasleys? It is still possible to catch up.”

“No. Anyway, I haven’t packed.”

Draco drops his arm from Potter’s shoulder to Potter’s waist. He nudges him to turn back to the Castle. “Let’s return.” He nods at the other Slytherins, who walk ahead of them.

Potter makes a noncommittal sound, his face a little down.

They enter Hogwarts Castle. Potter stamps his feet, shaking off snow. Draco draws his wand and efficiently strips off the snow from both their clothes.

Potter smiles wryly. “Thanks.” The smile soon drops again to something more wistful and tired.

Draco looks away.

Potter is the one to break the silence. “...So, do you have an intensive study plan for me this Winter Break?”

Draco’s lips twitch in amusement. “Willing for punishment, are you, Potter?”

Potter huffs. “Merely attempting to predict your actions, Malfoy.”

“Ah. you’re at least two months too late…”

“And who’s the one obsessing over our age difference _now_ , Malfoy?”

“You’ll _always_ be younger than me,” Draco says superiorly. “Take a weekend off, little Potter.”

“Then what will you be doing?”

“Preparing gifts.”

The wide-eyed look on Potter’s face is absolutely precious. “...Oh crap! I got Hermione and the Weasleys gifts ages ago, I forgot...But Hogsmeade...no, no, that won’t work…”

“You may borrow my owl.”

Potter hums absently, face scrunched up in thought. Draco’s hand itches to rub Potter’s head—to grab his attention, of course—but he restrains himself.

When they enter the Slytherin commons again, Potter quickly farewells Draco and heads over to Jamie and Michelle instead without a single look back.

Draco’s heart feels inexplicably sour. _What has Potter planned now?_

***

Over the course of the next two days, Harry’s Christmas gift plans sprawl into being. He’s determined to do it right the first time and show everyone just how much he appreciates them. So in-between mealtimes with Malfoy, Harry rushes to discuss matters with Jamie and Blaise, he quickly follows Felicity up to the owlery, and he hurries around the castle, and carefully hides his gifts.

Harry’s eyes curve with expectant joy as he flips through a reference book to find some instructions he needs. He hopes everyone will like what he’s preparing for them.

***

Yule and the Winter Solstice falls on Monday, December 21st that year, two days after the start of the Winter Break.

In the afternoon, just as Draco is about to head out with Nolan, Harley, Aster, and Mesa, he’s able to catch Potter returning with Blaise from who knows where.

“Malfoy! Where are you going?” Potter immediately heads over to Draco.

“I’ll see you later, Harry,” Blaise says.

“Oh yes, see you later. Thanks for your help.”

Draco meets Blaise’s eyes over Potter’s head. _What were you doing?_

Blaise smirks and lifts his chin. _Aren’t you curious?_ Cooly, he strolls away.

 _Tch_. Draco focuses back on Potter. “We’re heading out to the Forbidden Forest—”

Potter frowns.

“—To collect some items for the Winter solstice tonight.”

“The Winter solstice?” Potter’s face is absolutely blank.

“Are you coming with me?” Draco says.

Nolan grunts. “He doesn’t even know the Winter solstice…”

“Maybe he doesn’t study?” Harley says innocently.

“I’m coming,” Potter retorts. “Just wait, I need my cloak—”

Draco draws his wand and summons it. While Potter is standing still, he drapes it over Potter and casts a warming charm into the weave. “Come.”

Potter nudges Draco’s hands away. “Hey, I’m not a little kid that needs someone to do up my buttons.”

“Then don’t stand so close to Mr Malfoy,” Nolan retorts.

Aster and Mesa look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes.

Draco looks at the bickering Potter and Nolan in fond amusement. Eventually, Nolan grabs onto Draco’s cloak on one side, while Potter walks on Draco’s other side.

When they enter the Forest, Aster starts looking for potions ingredients—they’re not here to help Draco, but rather taking the opportunity to forage. Mesa goes along with them.

Meanwhile, Nolan and Harley are tasked with collecting winter greenery they’ll need to decorate the Commons for tonight.

“Then what about me?” Potter asks. “I’m not here because you’re going to duel someone in the Forest, are you…”

Draco looks at him, expression perfectly serious.

“...Really? Really?”

“No, of course not. Look for a large oak log.”

“...I don’t think I can tell oak from any other wood,” Potter mutters.

The entire group moves deeper into the Forest. While they do come across a number of logs, none of them passes Draco’s evaluation.

They’re still logless when they come upon the thestrals’ glade. Nolan and Harley’s eyes immediately widen. Nolan grabs onto Draco’s cloak, while Harley stands behind Nolan.

“Nolan, Harley, Aster, Mesa, these are the thestrals of Forbidden Forest.”

The thestral leader walks over to them, and a few young ones trot at her heels.

“There is no need to be afraid of them.” Draco pats Nolan lightly and turns to the thestral leader. “This is the leader of the thestrals. She can look after you.”

The thestral leader dips her head, peering at the Slytherins.

Potter nudges Nolan. “Are you scared? Malfoy plays with them all the time.”

“I’m not scared!” Nolan retorts. He doesn’t let go of Draco though.

Draco beckons one of the smallest thestrals over—it’s only about his height. The thestral neighs happily under Draco’s petting. Draco gently takes Nolan’s other hand and presses it against the thestral’s side.

“You see? They are warm and alive.”

Nolan’s eyes dip. “...Yes, Mr Malfoy.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise they were so friendly,” Mesa says.

“If you’re in the Forest and need help, come here to them.”

Between Draco and Potter, they pet all the little ones. When one of them tries to pull Draco though, Draco has to firmly resist. 

“No time to play, we need to find a log for Yule.”

The thestral leader makes a sound, tossing her head.

Draco nods to everyone else. “Follow her.”

The little bow their heads sadly as Draco leaves them behind. The thestral leader takes them directly to a large fallen oak log.

Potter’s eyes widen. “This is oak, right? Wow, how lucky.”

“Yes, very good, this is perfect. We appreciate your help.”

The thestral leader looks at him meaningfully.

Draco inwardly rolls his eyes. “Yes, we will visit again.”

With a neigh, she trots off.

Draco takes out his wand, and prods Potter to do the same. Between the two of them, they levitate the log and all head back to Hogwarts.

*

The rest of the afternoon is bustling with preparations. This energy slowly calms down as everything is set up, and as day fades to evening.

The windows facing the Lake are dark; the enchanted window shows a night sky,

Warm fires crackle from the fireplaces around the Slytherin Common’s perimeter and many candles light the ceiling like a carpet of stars. Holly and ivy hang from the walls, and the scent of pine permeates the air.

All the Slytherins staying at Hogwarts gather around the central firepit. Behind them, some of Hogwarts ghosts have gathered, watching something that has not occurred on Hogwarts ground for a long time.

But this year, Hogwarts has gone through many upheavels. And this year, Draco is here. 

Draco lights the oak yule log with a spark of wandless magic. The fire crackles into life, strong and vibrant.

He makes the first sacrifice: a cut on his arm, and blood dripping into a traditional Yule vessel. It heals quickly, and Blaise and Pansy go next.

Potter looks queasy. “You’re not... _summoning_ someone, are you?”

“It is a sacrifice of magic,” Draco says. “It goes to Slytherin, to Hogwarts, and to the earth.”

At the word _Hogwarts_ , Potter straightens. “Alright.” He steels himself when it’s his turn.

The vessel goes around to every Slytherin in the Commons. It’s as though the bonds _know_. The cuts transfer to Draco after a delay, just enough for a few drops of blood to be given.

Once every person has offered their blood, Draco steps forward and picks up the vessel. The blood inside looks black, deep and thrumming with power. Draco circles the fire pit once with it, passing by all the students arranged around it, and comes to a stop at the beginning.

“We are of Slytherin,” Draco intones. “We are of Hogwarts. We are of Earth.”

“In this darkest time of winter, our fire burning in our hearth and our hearts.”

Draco holds the vessel over the yule log fire. The flames lick up his hands, but they do not burn him. Someone starts to play the flute, its lilting tones rising through the air.

“We offer you this.” He tilts the vessel, droplets of blood falling, and starts walking in the circle once more. “Back to fire. Back to air. Back to earth. Back to sea.”

The blood doesn’t hiss. Instead, the moment the droplets hit the flames, they dissipate into shimmers of colours as bright as the day, as deep as the night. The circle completes, forming patterns that weave through the air. 

Eyes around the circle widen, gazes catching on the circle of colours. Warm, fizzling magic spreads out, with the lightest tinkle of fairly-like bells. Some of the Slytherins rub their arms, clearly feeling it.

Draco keeps his face sombre, even though this is the first time he’s seen such an intense response. Whenever his father conducts this back at Malfoy Manor, it is much more subdued. Is it due to the number of Slytherins? Is it due to _Potter’s_ presence?

The circle never truly fades—at least not while the yule log burns. But it’s dimmed enough, and so Draco turns to his Slytherins. “Let us eat.”

Preservation charms over the tables of food are removed and mulled drinks passed out. Some of it is magically burned for the ghosts to partake.

Draco turns to Potter, whose gaze is still fixed on the circle. “Surely you’re hungry?”

Potter rubs his arm. “It feels a bit weird, that’s all.”

“It’s the magic that you feel,” Draco says. “The stories say that long ago, the entire earth felt like this. But these days, we are left only with the ley lines, and places with concentrated magic like Hogwarts.”

“Really?” Potter finally looks at the tables of food. “And you celebrate Christmas too?”

There, Draco smirks wryly. “Never underestimate the power of capitalism,” he drawls. “Of course, for a time it was safer for us to pretend that we followed prominent muggle religion of the time. Merlin’s Arthur was Christain, after all, despite having the strongest wizard in Europe by his side.” Draco shrugs. “Some families eventually forgot that they were pretending. And some families were Christain when they entered the wizarding world.”

Potter snorts. “And I bet the Malfoys didn’t.”

Draco’s smirk deepens. “An anti-witchcraft religion is not very conducive to Malfoy nor Black affairs. Perhaps if another magic friendly religion was dominant, my history could have been much different.”

Potter rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lips lift. “Right, I’m _not_ going to ask what your ancestors got up to.”

“Learning tact, congratulations.”

“Learning sarcasm, the lowest form of wit, congratulations.”

They both look at each other, the corner of their lips going up.

“ _Enough_ talking,” Pansy says loudly. She levitates a mug of warm spiced pumpkin juice to Draco and Potter. “Drink. eat. You need to regain your energy after the blood sacrifice. And look—the first and second years worked _so hard_ to set up some games. Go play!”

“Yes, mother,” Potter says cheekily.

“You bet I am!” Pansy turns to Draco. “Why are you just sitting there? Off you go!”

“But—”

“ _Draco_.”

Draco bows his head and joins in with Potter and the games late into the night.

***

The day before Christmas Eve, Minerva McGonagall receives a letter from the Ministry. A _perfect_ time for them given that they stop working tomorrow til the after the new year, forcing Minerva to wait before she can counter them.

_Dear Headmistress of Hogwarts,_

_It has come to our attention that your student, Draco L. Malfoy, has been caught duelling with Professor Richard Garren. Rest assured that we will investigate this matter thoroughly. Mr Malfoy’s parole Auror has been notified. Mr Malfoy’s blatant disrespect for his Head of Slytherin is concerning. We urge the Headmistress to seek disciplinary action…_

Minerva’s lips tighten. In the last few days, she has had a headache. The magic in Hogwarts is unsettled, getting worse to the lower floors. All the charms are _functioning_ , but they feel as though they want to change. It feels as though some of them _have_ changed. This letter is an unwanted extra brick of annoyance.

Minerva is _sure_ that Draco Malfoy’s actions have affected Hogwarts.

In the afternoon, Minerva has tea with Irma Pince in Irma’s quarters. As the Headmistress, Minerva is particularly sensitive to the fluctuations at Hogwarts. But what she doesn’t know is whether there is any precedent.

Irma muses Minerva’s questions seriously. “Any large fluctuations suggest a large magical working. A few days ago...was the winter solstice.”

Minerva sips her tea. “I was afraid so.”

“As for the outcome of Garren’s duel with Malfoy...” Irma summons her private extended notes on _Hogwarts, A History_. Flipping through, she bookmarks a number of pages. “There have been duels between professors and students before. There was one occasion where wand allegiances were changed as a result, when a professor completely suppressed the student...ah, it was here.”

Minerva takes a look, even though the historical situation is the opposite of what occurred between Malfoy and Garren.

... _Wand allegiances_.

Hadn’t the portraits mentioned Draco Malfoy using Richard Garren’s wand?

Minerva cannot remember the last time she saw Garren use his wand. The man is fairly adept at wandless everyday spells.

But if Malfoy inherited Garren’s wand’s allegiance, then what else did Malfoy inherit?

In the past, many duels had decided great fates and enacted changes in the course of magic.

Minerva looks up, stunned. “I have a conjecture.”

When Irma hears Minerva’s conjecture, she’s equally stunned. “A _student?_ Causing _that_?”

Minerva stands up. “We must check it immediately.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Draco** : Blaise, what were you doing with Potter?
> 
>  **Blaise** : *smirk* Wouldn't you like to know. He's very...delicious.
> 
>  **Draco** : *narrows eyes*
> 
>  **Harry** , who's shorter than both of them, is completely oblivious to the exchange going above his head.
> 
>  **All other Slytherins** : ..........
> 
> **Nolan** : Why are you so close to Mr Malfoy?? *grabs Draco's arm*
> 
>  **Harry** : Why are you so close to him, you little brat? *grabs Draco's other arm*
> 
>  **Draco** : *tugs his arms back and pats both of them on the head* Sibling rivalry, I approve.
> 
>  **Harry** : *head pat feels good 🥰🥰🥰...wait a minute...* MALFOY!
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
>  **Draco** : *wraps a protective arm around Harry*
> 
>  **Harry** : //blushes// 🥺🥺🥺
> 
>  **Draco** : *puts Harry's cloak on for him*
> 
>  **Harry** : //blushes//🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
> 
>  **Draco** : *...Hand itchy. Want to rub his head so badly...*
> 
>  **Draco** : ...fuck it. *rubs Harry's head*
> 
>  **Harry** : 🥰🥰🥰 *lips curve up with happiness, eyes blissful*
> 
>  **Draco** : ... _Must….protect………!_
> 
> *alternative scene*:
> 
>  **Potter** is the one to break the silence. “...So, do you have an intensive study plan for me this Winter Break?”
> 
>  **Draco** ’s lips twitch in amusement. “Willing for punishment, are you, Potter?”
> 
>  **Harry** , internally: !!!! PUNISH ME, PLEASE!!!
> 
> **
> 
> Headcanon here, but I always thought that the hardcore (conservative) wizards in Britain would be effectively "pagans" and follow the super old traditions. All the miracles and magical things that a lot of religious figures do (regardless of religion)...witches and wizards can do them too....... (kind of like how science explains things, but like the magical equivalent).
> 
> (Anyway, Merlin is basically almost a god given that wizarding people swear on him.)
> 
> ((Now for those of you who know xianxia...what if certain mages can cultivate to become gods? In that case, being a god isn't so ~mystical~ at all...fairly standard, really, even if it might be very hard...So imagine Merlin ascending to godhood lol.))


	18. Chapter 18

Aside from the Slytherins, Hogwarts is mostly empty during the Winter Break, and Garren is mercifully gone. Nonetheless, Draco and Blaise continue their regular rounds of the floors by the Slytherin Dungeons.

Lately, Potter hasn’t requested to come with them, because he’s still off doing his secret little gift-acquiring business.

“He’s a busy little kneazle,” Blaise drawls. “Jealousy is a very amusing look on you.”

Draco gives Blaise a disgruntled look. “I merely wonder why on earth your expertise could possibly be superior to mine.”

Blaise smiles gently. “It is that attitude in which I am superior, little Draco.”

“ _Little—!_ And I’m _not_ jealous.”

Draco realises a beat too late what he just said. Protesting that he’s not jealous...Blaise is going to take it as confirmation!

Blaise chuckles. “So you know.”

Draco snorts, turning his head away. “You and Pansy...leave me out of your fairytales.”

It simply feels odd to be away from Potter for such long periods of time, especially after how sticky Potter had acted. Draco ignores Blaise and returns to their task.

The yule log has been burning for the last two nights. It will burn out when this night is done, just in time to switch from Yule to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day festivities.

Although the visible pulsation of magic from the yule log and the blood sacrifice is gone, Draco can still catch glimmers of magic at the corner of his eye. Centered on the Slytherin Commons, Hogwarts’ magic has brightened and strengthened, fading as they go further up and further away.

When Draco presses a hand against the wall, the magic underneath jumps and swirls. It presses against Draco’s fingers, and flitters when Draco impulsively transfers a touch of magic.

Little nudges, almost like Legilimency, brush against Draco. They draw his attention immediately to the faded areas that need refreshing, the broken spell threads that need fixing.

Then, for a brief moment, the magic trace of a dragon appears in the magic weave, before dissipating in a glimmer. Hogwarts’ magic rumbles under Draco’s hand, warm and familiar...

_Does Blaise feel the same from Hogwarts?_ Blaise’s fingers trail across the wall, his eyes charmingly soft as though he’s talking to a younger student.

Draco’s eyes lower, glancing to Blaise at the corner of his eye. In a low voice, he says, “Your family must own houses as old as Hogwarts.”

“Hm, my mother does,” Blaise looks back at Draco.

“And how long does it take them to transition from merely being wilful to...more?”

Blaise has a faint smile.

_Ah, that explains it_. Or else, Draco might have thought Blaise had moved on from charming and sweet talking beings and creatures to inanimate objects.

But the implications of that...Draco, the person who let Death Eaters into the school, who then caused Hogwarts’ destruction...

Draco presses his hand more firmly against Hogwarts, feeding it some of his magic. The tendrils of it—silver—spread out and merge into the multicolouredness of Hogwarts. “Good Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts’ magic pulses, prickling Draco’s fingertips. Blaise laughs.

“Hogwarts is over a thousand years old, not a little third year,” Blaise says.

“I knew that,” Draco huffs. Not wanting Blaise to hear, Draco focuses his attention.

_Thank you. And sorry._

Hogwarts hums. It feels a little _expectant_. Draco’s lips twitch. He feeds it more magic to placate it.

*

The yule log burns out by the end of that night. And on the morning the next day, McGonagall requests Draco to her office via a letter delivered by a Hogwarts house elf.

“I’m bored, so I’m going with you,” Pansy says.

Potter looks hesitant. “I should go with you as well.”

Draco waves Potter away. “Aren’t you still busy preparing gifts? Are you doubting Pansy’s prowess?”

Potter smiles sheepishly. “Okay, okay.”

And so, Draco and Pansy set off for the Headmistress’s office.

“ _I’m_ not waiting out here,” Pansy says when they reach the staircase. In fact, after giving the guard gargoyle the password, she strolls up the stairs first, and she’s the one who knocks at McGonagall’s door.

“Come in—Ms Parkinson. I was not expecting you. Is there anything I can do to help you—” McGonagall’s voice stops when Draco appears behind Pansy.

“Yes, you can let me stay for Draco’s meeting,” Pansy says. “He’ll tell me everything _anyway_.”

“I would,” Draco agrees. “Good morning, Professor McGonagall.”

“Good morning. Then please, both of you, take a seat.” McGongall shifts aside various papers on her desk.

Draco takes a seat, his eyes flickering up to the portraits around them. _All_ of them are assessing Draco. In particular, Portrait Dumbledore has an _indulgent_ -like look that makes Draco want to sneer at, and Snape...Portrait Snape’s eyes are black and unreadable. 

Behind her desk, McGonagall’s looks weary and a hair’s away from _Stupefying_ everyone in sight.

“I have not seen any of you at meal times lately.”

“We enjoy eating together in the Slytherin Commons,” Draco says.

“We keep the Commons warm, and the younger students like to take the chance to sleep,” Pansy adds.

McGonagall purses her lips. “Yes, I do know that you have...an _agreement_ with the Hogwarts elves. Be that as it may, I expect you all to be in attendance for tomorrow’s Christmas Feast.”

Draco and Pansy both nod.

“Now. Unfortunately, it has come to the attention of the Ministry that you duelled Professor Garren.” McGongall looks at them, eyes soulfully tired. “I wished you had come to me first.”

“With all due respect, _he_ cast the first spell.”

“I know. However, your duel has had adverse effects on Hogwarts. You conducted a Yule ritual, didn’t you?”

Draco nods.

The portraits around them look at Draco with shock.

McGonagall’s lips twist into a pained smile. “And you did not stop to think that only Slytherin was conducting the old rituals? Did you not stop and think how that would upset the delicate balance of Hogwarts? I understand that you grew up in an old Manor house. Hogwarts is older yet again. Your duel with Professor Garren has left Hogwarts wavering and jittery, and you’ve further exacerbated it.”

“Hogwarts is sentient,” Draco states.

McGonagall’s lack of denial is proof. Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Firstly, Professor Garren dueled _me_. Secondly, perhaps the other professors should have thought to hold a Yule ritual too. How many years has it been since we’ve slowly forgotten the old ways? What happened to the old classes on magical rituals?” Draco’s lips curve up, but his eyes are not smiling. “Can we blame this entirely on the Ministry...or on internal agents of Hogwarts?”

Such as one Albus Dumbledore. Draco knows he’s biased against him, and he doesn’t give a damn.

McGonagall sighs shortly. “I understand that Professor Garren is not an ideal Head of Slytherin. But he should have at least fulfilled his basic duties.”

“That’s not enough in _this_ climate,” Draco retorts. He curls his fingers, and forces himself to take a deep, measured breath. “Professor Garren has grievances with me.”

“I _know_.” McGonagall’s lips thin. “I will inform the other Head of Houses to conduct a belated Yule ritual. However, once the Winter Break ends, I will need your cooperation on a matter.”

Draco lets the silence hang a stretch long. “...In what matter?”

“I need you to face Professor Garren, and allow him to disarm you.” McGonagall has not a trace of sarcasm. “If, and when, a Ministry inspection comes, Professor Garren needs his wand’s allegiance.”

Draco’s hackles raise. “You want to concede to him?” The only two people Draco has ever conceded to are his mother and Potter. Garren...is dirt. Undeserving of Draco handing over a wand, even if his current wand is ( _was_ ) a Ministry wand.

McGonagall’s lips twitch...up. “You see, it is one of the few things the Ministry can check. They, however, cannot check who Hogwarts considers the Head of Slytherin.”

“You’re telling _me_ …” Pansy starts.

“Yes. The current Head of Slytherin is Draco Malfoy.”

Draco’s eyes widen. The dragon in his chest stretches luxuriously. He slowly smirks. “I see.”

Pansy shots him a meaningful look. _Don’t let it get into your head, or **I’ll** take over your position_, her eyes clearly say.

Draco pushes down his smirk with regret. “But if I graciously allow Professor Garren to disarm me…”

“I believe Hogwarts will be able to recognise that you are merely handing back Garren’s wand’s allegiance, and not your allegiance to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is intelligent.”

“Indeed. Then I’ll cooperate with you.”

“Good. Now, you both need to tell me _exactly_ what you did during your Yule ritual.”

McGonagall’s somewhat warm expression after Draco’s agreement soon fades away to an annoyed exasperation after she hears what they have done.

“Blood magic, a thestral-picked yule log…” McGonagall mutters. “Children these days…” She sighs. “Very well. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“I duelled some students too, and Potter was my second,” Draco graciously says.

McGonagall looks at him, unamused. “Good day, Mr Malfoy and Ms Parkinson. I look forward to seeing you at the feast tomorrow.”

Draco and Pansy farewell Professor McGonagall and head out. They close the door behind them and quietly descend the stairs.

At the bottom, Draco starts smirking again.

Pansy flicks him on the forehead. “Watch your expression, dear,” she drawls. “If Hogwarts considers you the Head of Slytherin, then that means you have _responsibilities_. If you don’t fulfil them, Blaise would easily take your place.”

Draco’s smirk immediately turns into a frown. “Yes. Blaise has a good relationship with Hogwarts.” _And with Potter_. _And with almost everyone he meets…_

Draco pats the wall—pats _Hogwarts_ —lightly. “But right now, Hogwarts likes me.” Magic pulses under his hand.

Pansy also pats the wall. “Is that it?” She pouts when Hogwarts’ reception of her is not nearly as obvious. “If only Hogwarts had eyes that I could cast Legilimency on.”

“I shudder to think of the aftermath,” Draco drawls.

The two of them head back to the Slytherin Commons.

Draco rounds the students to have a short 30 minutes of duelling practice, as he has been doing for the last few days. In this way, he is _perfectly_ truthful about those letters he sent to those parents, _and_ the Slytherins gain skills to protect themselves. As they finish, Blaise returns.

“Good?” Blaise says, after he finishes coordinating the house-elves in positioning the large—still living—fir tree by the side of the room.

“Indeed.” Draco goes and prods some younger students. “Why don’t you help Blaise set up the Christmas tree?”

Jamie immediately looks up, dropping the cards he has been playing with. “Oh! Yeah!”

Someone sets up a gramophone playing traditional Christmas songs and students bustle around to complete the Christmas decorations.

Gone now are the burnt out yule log ashes. Intertwined with the yule decorations are the Christmas ones: a large wreath hangs by the entrance, and smaller wreaths above the various hearths around the Commons. Fresh green foliage curls around the room and adorns the banisters along the mezzanine floor.

Draco and Felicity together have charmed snowflakes to fall from the ceiling, dissipating before they reach the ground. With Blaise and his team, the giant Balsam fir tree glitters and glows. Then, everyone takes their wrapped presents and places them under the tree.

Sometime during all of this, Potter has returned. His eyes widen when he sees the presents under the tree.

“...I’ll put my gifts there later?” he says sheepishly to Draco.

“Of course. ” Draco presses a hand on Potter’s back and nudges him to the Christmas tree. “Go hang something up. Every other Slytherin here has done so.”

Potter smiles. “Okay.” He cheekily summons his broom and hangs up a lightning-shaped bauble right near the top of the tree.

Given that they have to attend the Christmas Feast with the rest of the school tomorrow, the Slytherins go all out with Christmas Eve Dinner.

The original tables have been transfigured together into one giant rectangular table, much like the long tables in the Great Hall, except their chairs are a lot more comfortable. Blaise and Jamie, and surprisingly, Potter, have liaised with the house-elves to produce a banquet of food. There are turkey roasts and nut roasts, yorkshire puddings and tarte tatins, Christmas puddings and yule log cakes and gingerbread and mince pies...

It’s not just the students of Slytherin here, either. Draco makes sure to magically burn some food for the ghosts that have come; some of the fifth year Slytherins have organised food for the mer people in the Great Lake; and Blaise and Jamie have charmed some of the more confident (or easily convinced) house-elves to join their dinner.

The low sound of joyful Christmas songs builds a rich undercurrent to the clatter of cutlery and the laughter and bubbling voices.

“...Don’t forget to add some vegetables to your plate, Potter.”

Potter pouts. “What about Nolan—”

Nolan quickly glares at Potter before putting glazed parsnips and carrots on his plate.

Felicity laughs and turns to Pansy. “Nolan wasn’t like this when Harry wasn’t here.”

Pansy shakes her head in amusement. “Ah, let them be.”

Once students finish eating, they move to the sofas and plush carpets around the central fireplace.

Some students take out their musical instruments and start to play: piano and violin and flutes, and some overexcitable students start to sing (read: Jamie). In the relaxed atmosphere, some students set up daring games.

“I dare you to hug Harry Potter!”

“I dare you to hug Draco!!”

“Ohhhhh, I dare you to hug Pansy!”

Draco pats multiple students in amusement, while Potter’s cheeks go red as he laughs. Pansy smirks at the sweet little innocent student who’s a bit scared to hug her.

Blaise joins the group of students playing dares and pouts. “Why does no one what to hug me?”

He’s faced with big watery eyes and gets his group hug a moment later.

Festivities and games and chatter go right up to midnight, until Draco, feeling the pressure of being the Responsible One, puts his foot down and ushers everyone to bed.

“No, I’m not allowed to open my presents until tomorrow morning, so no one gets to open presents until tomorrow _morning_.”

Aster tilts their head. “Please define ‘morning’.”

“After 8am, because you should all get enough sleep first,” Draco decides, even as it stabs his own heart. All the students drag their feet up to bed.

*

Harry follows the other Eighth Year Slytherins to their dorm room. Harry uses one of the bathrooms after Pansy.

Once the door closes, Harry is alone and his smile drops.

With all the hurry to prepare all the gifts, with the excitement of Christmas eve...As the noise of the night’s event fades, Harry is now tired. He looks at himself in the mirror and gives a wane smile. The atmosphere of Slytherin is not the same as that of the Burrow.

He does his nightly routine methodically. It’s a Christmas eve where Harry isn’t at the Burrow. A Christmas eve without his first two friends, Ron and Hermione.

Outside the bathroom are people who he now considers friends. But Harry’s still aware that he’s not part of their core inner-three circle. Because Harry’s inner circle is with Ron and Hermione.

Knowing that Ron and Hermione’s gifts for him await him in the morning makes his chest feel a little tight. He wishes they hadn’t departed on such a sour note...

Harry shuffles out of the bathroom and sits down heavily on his bed, yawning. Everyone is there in the bedroom. Malfoy is already under the blankets, leaning against the headboard and pillows, and Pansy is reclining on top.

“Good, Harry,” Blaise says, dressed in a revealing night robe that...Harry is now, finally, used to. He stands at the foot of the big bed and raises an eyebrow at Malfoy and Pansy. “You’re just in time for me to interrogate Draco and Pansy about their meeting with McGonagall this morning.”

Harry perks up. “Right, what happened??”

Malfoy says lazily, “Nothing too major. McGonagall wants me to allow Garren to disarm me because I’ve taken over his wand allegiance. And yes, she confirmed that Hgowarts is sentient and considers me to be the Head of Slytherin.”

Harry blinks. “Um...what?”

Blaise’s eyebrows rise in contemplation. He reaches out to stroke the wall. “Indeed, Hogwarts is sentient, isn’t she? Or—they? You’re _such_ a beautiful darling. Standing for over a thousand years, mightier each day…”

“If Hogwarts starts thinking you’re the headmaster, it’s _not_ going to go down well,” Pansy warns.

“How can I be their master? Hogwarts masters _me_.”

Harry laughs.

Pansy smirks. “Maybe Blaise should sleep in Harry’s bed tonight, and Harry can join us. Give Blaise a little privacy, you know?”

Harry’s cheeks heat up. “What do you mean?” he mumbles.

“You’re too innocent,” Pansy says with a completely straight face.

Harry’s lips quirk up. “You sneaky Slytherins are just trying to trick me into sleeping with you.”

Pansy tilts her head a little. Her eyes glint. “Now that you mention it...it doesn’t feel right that you’re sleeping alone on Christmas eve.”

“I’m used to it,” Harry says easily, smiling. “I’m a grown up, as it were.”

Pansy pouts. “But you’re a Slytherin Eighth Year!”

“And yet Malfoy still calls me Potter.” Harry quickly then adds, “Well, I still call him Malfoy, so that’s even.”

Malfoy’s eyes sweep over Harry. His lips twist a little. “Oh. Ah. I suppose I do...It’s just that you’ve been my arch-rival for so long…”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I suppose so. But you call everyone else in Slytherin by their given names.” He shrugs one shoulder.

Malfoy has a look on his face that Harry doesn’t understand, but it makes his chest ache a little.

“Very well. I’ll make a concerted effort to think of you as _Harry_. It’s simply…”

Pansy crosses her arms. “Intimate? Close? Loving?”

Malfoy rolls his eyes, and completely ignores her, “And Potter—I mean _Harry_ , this transaction must go both ways. Call me Draco.”

Harry slowly nods. “Draco.”

Malfoy...Draco...is right. Calling each other by their given names like this, and not because they’re playing to an audience, feels...different. It feels unfamiliar, like they’re stepping closer to each other.

“Okay,” Pansy says. “Now that we’re all friends now, Harry, come sleep with us. It can be _completely_ platonic, don’t worry.”

“But—”

“It’s Christmas Eve, I can’t in good conscience let you sleep alone.” Her voice says that it’s not a request, but an order.

Harry lets himself drift closer to the big bed. “But it _is_ a bit weird. Ron says it’s not a pureblood thing to have threesomes.”

Pansy laughs, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Darling Harry, none of us are dating each other. Even though we _are_ all bi, our preferences...aren’t our childhood sibling-y friends. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat. _All of them are bi? Even ~~Malfoy~~ Draco?_

“I’m...I’m bi too,” Harry says shyly. “So that doesn’t bother me…”

Pansy’s eyes light up. “BI GANG!” she exclaims.

~~Malfoy’s~~ Draco’s lips part, the corner of his mouth curling up. “So the great Harry Potter is bi who lived…”

Pansy flicks Draco on the forehead. “Don’t tease Harry like that!” She pulls Harry onto the bed and maneuvers him so that he’s sandwiched between her and Draco.

Blaise pats the wall one last time, for now, and climbs into bed too, on Draco’s opposite side. “Very lovely of you to join us, Harry.”

Harry tries not to move. He doesn’t want to inadvertently touch anyone on either side.

Pansy props herself up on one arm, smiling exasperatedly at Harry. “Don’t be so stiff. I promise you, Draco is very warm and snuggly.”

Harry’s eyes dip away, too embarrassed to look at Draco. “Maybe we can swap our positions? And you can be closest to Draco.”

Pansy’s eyes soften. “All right. But don’t go sleeping in the corner of the bed by yourself. On this Christmas eve night, you’re sleeping with us, understood?”

Harry nods. They shift positions and lie back down again; Pansy grabs Harry’s arm, making sure he stays close.

Harry’s lips quirk up. “I should have known how comfortable your bed would be.”

It’s a very novel experience to be so close to everyone else as they engage in quiet talk in the dark before sleeping. Draco is the one who finally says _Stop talking and go to sleep_ to Pansy and Blaise.

With Pansy holding onto Harry’s arm, and the soft breaths of the other three, Harry falls asleep surprisingly quickly.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The glimmers of magic at the corner of Draco’s eyes are based on how Tris Chandler sees magic in the Circle of Magic series~ (I’m basically putting in my fave magic tropes and concepts lol. But as Author, I’m allowed!!). Also, want to read more about Sentient Hogwarts from me? There is a bit of it towards the end of [Draco Malfoy Hacks the Ministry And Messes With Harry Potter (and other less fun and more serious happenings)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116481) 😄😄😄
> 
> **McGonagall** : You’re the Head of Slytherin, Draco.  
>  **Draco** : !!! heheheh. Muahahahaha—OW!  
>  **Pansy** : Watch it, darling.  
> Somewhere else…Garren has an inexplicable cold feeling.
> 
> **Draco** : Hogwarts is sentient.  
>  **Blaise** : *smirks* Is that so~
> 
> **Draco** : No presents before 8am tomorrow!  
>  **Draco** : (inside) *sobs* No presents before 8am. I hate being responsible...
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> Harry immediately grabs the opportunity to sleep right next to Draco. He snuggles up, all warm and cosy. Draco pats his head and Harry drifts off to sleep, perfectly content. And when Harry wakes up the next morning, Draco (who had woken up earlier), is now patting his head again, his long fingers carding through Harry’s curls…
> 
> **Pansy** : *smirks inwardly* 😌 Finally dating?  
>  **Draco** : Eh? We’re friends. Can _you_ stop yourself from petting Harry? Can you??? Look at how cute he is!  
>  **Harry** : …  
>  **Pansy:** ...
> 
> Oh yeah! And I did a [little piece of art of Draco patting Harry’s head!](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/post/636331264435191808/harry-draco-unable-to-restrain-himself)


	19. Chapter 19

When Draco wakes up on Christmas morning, he is immediately aware that ~~Potter~~ Harry is not in the room. The bonds reach out from his chest, even the hair-thin ones. Every single person is accounted for—Harry is somewhere in the Common Room.

Tension eases from Draco’s heart. He extracts himself from Blaise and Pansy, climbing out of the bed.

“Hmmm, Draco, no,” Pansy mumbles. “Too early, what the fuck.”

“Then go back to sleep.” Draco casts a strong warming charm for her and Blaise and re-tucks the blankets back over them.

Downstairs, the Slytherin Commons is lit with an enchanted predawn, the crackling flames in the central fire pit, and the candles on the giant Balsam fir. Piles of gifts surround the fir, and one certain Jamie Ottley’s already up and eyeing them. There are some other children awake too, but they’re chatting quietly and not nearly as obvious.

Draco heads over to them, lips curling up. “It’s not yet 8 am, but you are already up. It’s surprising how you can wake up so early on a holiday like this.”

Michelle bites back a smile and Jamie reddens.

“However, I will allow you to open _one_ present before 8, if everyone from your year is awake. Merry Christmas.”

Jamie’s eyes light up. “Merry Christmas, sir!” He scrambles to his feet, dragging Michelle up too. “You go wake the girls!” And then he races up the stairs to the dormitories.

Draco turns away and moves towards the firepit. Behind him, the other children slowly get up and head to wake _their_ friends, acting cool and calm.

While the children had been clustered around the tree, Harry is sitting, knees pulled up, on a sofa by the fire pit.

Draco takes a seat next to him. “Regretting not waking up at the Weasleys’ abode?”

Harry’s eyes flicker to him. “And Merry Christmas to you, too.” But his tone is more distant than cheeky. He gives Draco a faint smile. “Aren’t you going to wake Pansy and Blaise so you can open a present?”

“Has waking _anyone_ up gone well for you?”

Harry’s lips curl up a little. “Maybe Hermione, if I ever had the chance to do so.”

Draco leans closer to Harry. “I’ll let you into a secret.”

Harry’s eyes brighten. “Oh?”

“One of the fireplaces here is connected to the Floo network with firecall access. You could, hypothetically, use it to contact anyone you wish.”

Harry hesitates, but ultimately shakes his head. “What about _you_? I’m surprised you’re not having Christmas with your mum and dad.”

“My mother is attempting to set up an arranged marriage for me, and I _shan’t_ think of my father’s plans to live vivaciously through me.”

“I don’t know, that sounds better than having Mrs Weasley ask me why I broke up with Ginny, and seeing George without Fred.”

Draco pulls a face. “ _Fine_ , if you must win. What of your muggle family?”

Harry snorts. “ _Heh_. Merlin no.” He gives Draco a smirk. “I was treated no better than the way _you_ treat house-elves.”

Draco stares at him, unable to comprehend it. “Do elaborate.” He’s _Harry Potter_. Surely even _muggles_ could comprehend _something_ , such as Harry’s impressive aura.

Harry shrugs. “Oh, it was great. I slept in a cupboard under the stairs, cooked for them, cleaned for them. Everything in the papers about them and my shit childhood? True. So there’s nothing more for me to say.”

Draco’s eyes darken. Of course he read all those papers mentioning Harry Potter, but he hadn’t _fully_ believed them.

_I see_. 

Draco slowly reaches out and lays a hand on Harry’s knee. Harry’s leg twitches, and his gaze snaps to Draco.

“It is my responsibility to ensure you have a lively Christmas day,” Draco says soberly.

Harry ducks his head a little. “You’re weird,” he grumbles.

Draco’s lips quirk. “You’re my Slytherin. It’s my duty.”

“Not your ex-Gryffindor? I think Pansy’s right, this Head-of-Slytherin business has gotten into your head.”

Draco rubs Harry’s knee. “My only ex-Gryffindor.”

The tips of Harry’s ears are red. It’s...endearing how easily Harry becomes embarrassed. The bond in Draco’s chest tingles, and his heart swells—

“ _Come on!_ I want a present!!!” Jamie shouts, followed by the heavy thud of steps down the stairs.

Harry jerks back, causing Draco’s hand on his knee to slip. He doesn’t meet Draco’s eyes, mumbling, “I think they want to open their presents now.”

“Indeed.” Draco glances over, making a quick head-count of the second and first years. Smiling wryly at their sleep-rumpled appearances and bright excited eyes, Draco waves a hand of permission.

Chatter fills the common room as the children do the serious business of choosing what gift they will open first.

Draco summons a house-elf to serve them an early breakfast: it is much too vulgar to open all the presents before having their morning meal.

The scent of sweet and buttery foods soon fill the air. Draco ushers the first and second years to have their breakfast, and inserts Harry in the middle of them.

“Ah, Mr Potter, you haven’t opened a present yet?” Alyss asks shyly.

Harry smiles at her. “Unlike you first years, not all the Eighth years are up, are they?”

Alyss nods, reflecting Harry’s smile. “That’s true.”

Soon, more and more Slytherins trickle down. Pansy and Blaise eventually come down. Pansy sits on the seat next to Draco, vacated as Nolan joins the third years in opening their presents.

“How lovely of you to join us,” Draco says.

Pansy groans, flopping her head on Draco’s shoulder. “How could I sleep with that racket?”

“A silencing charm?”

Pansy groans again.

Harry pours her a cup of coffee with a lot of sugar and milk, and he gets a big grateful look from Pansy. Meanwhile, Draco gets a disdainful look.

“Harry’s replacing you in my heart,” Pansy declares.

“Then maybe you should lean on _his_ shoulder.”

“Then maybe I _will_.” Pansy gets up and sits on Harry’s other side.

Harry’s eyes widen when Pansy lays her head on his shoulder, freezing. Draco bites back a smile.

*

Once the Eighth Years finish breakfast, Draco and Blaise retrieve their presents.

As the youngest of the four, Harry opens his presents first. There’s a Weasley jumper (which Harry immediately puts on), rock cakes, books, and a fair amount of Quidditch paraphernalia. The second years have banded together to give him a matching hat, scarf and gloves. He receives a gold necklace from Blaise, and a book on courting traditions from Pansy.

“Why would I need a book on _courting?”_ Harry says.

Pansy cackles. “When it comes to dating purebloods, you can’t _merely_ ask them out, darling.”

“Harry’s _still in school_ ,” Draco drawls.

Pansy smirks. “Exactly, else my gift would have been even _more_ explicit…”

“Why would you wish to give Harry an explicit book when you could show him?” Blaise asks.

Harry flushes red. “The only thing worse would be Hermione giving me the Talk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And now for Draco’s gift!” he announces.

Draco hides a wince. After Blaise’s gift, he’s regretting not buying the expensive ring with embedded emeralds instead.

As Harry tears the silver wrapping, he uncovers a milk chocolate treacle tart filled bar, a slim box containing a handwriting correcting quill, and a charmed badge that flashes: _Potter Rocks!_

Harry grins. “I knew I won you over. Welcome to the Harry Potter fan club.” He takes the badge and pins it immediately on his Weasley jumper.

Draco sniffs. “You haven’t _won_ me over,” he says.

Draco pulls his pile of presents closer, because he’s next. Among other things, there’s jewellery from his parents and Blaise. Aster has given him a complex text on potions, and Nolan gifted him a small silver dragon charm. The small silver dragon moves languidly, curling itself around Draco’s thumb like a large ring.

Draco’s lips quirk in mild amusement. Does it also like Draco’s warmth?

Pansy’s gift is a slim book, _Lumosing the Mating Habits of Muggles_. Draco gives her an unimpressed look, and smirks. “I suppose you gifted this on assumption that you’ll borrow it from me. A particular muggleborn witch catch your eye?”

Pansy smirks back. “Really, darling, denial is unbecoming of a Slytherin.”

Harry laughs, while Draco sorely regrets not buying something incriminating for Pansy. 

Draco saves Harry’s gift for last: it has the sloppiest of wrapping, which is difficult for Draco to understand because Harry was wrapping a _box_ with clean and even sides. Inside the box, nestled on black velvet, is a silver snitch.

“So we can play sometime,” Harry immediately jumps in.

“Thus, it’s not a gift to _me_ , is it?” Draco drawls, and ends up smiling when Harry flushes.

“It’s not just that….it’s because how we used to play Seeker against each other.”

_And I lost every time_ , Draco doesn’t say.

Harry continues in a slightly anxious tone, “And no one has touched that snitch yet. It’s for you, touch it first.”

The pad of Draco’s finger brushes lightly against the delicate metal of the snitch. The wings of the snitch flutter, and the snitch slowly flies up, hovering by Draco.

“Now, it’ll return to you whenever you want it too.”

“...Are you implying that the only way I can win against you in a seeker-versus-seeker match is to have a snitch that will always find me?”

Harry’s stricken expression makes Draco amused.

“ _Well_ , that’s true,” Pansy mutters. Draco ignores her.

Draco manipulates the snitch back into the box. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Umm, welcome.” Harry has a relieved smile.

Pansy opens her gifts next, hugging Harry when she receives a wand holster from him.

By the time Blaise finishes opening his gifts, which include a large pile from his mother and from the families of his late step fathers, the Slytherin Commons is bustling with chatter Slytherins showing off their gifts.

The younger Slytherins tug Harry along to show him their gifts and try out their new games, including the ones that Harry gave them.

“Well technically it’s for _you_ —” Harry tries.

“But games are played together!” Jamie counters.

Draco smirks and pushes Harry along to be entertained by the younger Slytherins. Later, Draco will hear them compare the handwriting-correcting quills Draco gifted them all—of course, he bought different styles/versions for each person.

Finally in a quiet moment for himself, Draco takes a seat on one of the couches by the wall and reads through his parents’ letters. It is all as expected. He folds the letters back up and looks over the Common Room. Various students are relaxing or chatting. For this brief time, there’s no stress or pressure from the world outside these walls.

Draco sinks his magic into the castle around him. It is different this morning, more rich and deep. The other professors must have conducted some strengthening yule rituals. He murmurs a quiet _thank you_ to Hogwarts.

And for an instant, Draco senses the ripple of Hogwarts’ magic in return.

“Hey, Draco!” Harry calls out, heading over with a group of mixed year students. “ _We_ were thinking of having a snowball fight. Want to join?”

“ _Please_?” Jamie clasps his hands together in front of him.

“Unless you’re scared of losing,” Harry adds.

Draco stands smoothly. “Prepare to eat snow, dear Harry. Get your warm robes and boots, and _then_ we’ll head out,” he adds sternly—and giving Harry a pointed look as well.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, mum,” he says.

The other Slytherins, cheeky buggers, also chorus, “ _Yes, mum_.”

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re a terrible influence, Harry.” He doesn’t think Harry did it on purpose, but the other Slytherins certainly know that Draco’s trying _not_ to reprimand them on Christmas day.

But with Harry’s grin, how can anyone be angry?

They all head out to play in the snow outside, and Draco is on the _winning_ team in the snowball fight, thank you very much.

Even if...the snow balls keep melting in his hands, damn it. How can using his wand to form snowballs be called cheating??

“OH! Harry! Malfoy!” Hagrid’s voice booms across the snowy landscape. He stomps over to them. “Do you want to give the thestrals their Christmas dinner?”

Draco looks over the Slytherins he’s supposed to be looking after. “Lead them out of the Forest.”

“Good idea!!” Hagrid immediately agrees.

Not long after, two groups converge outside Hagrid’s hut. On one side: the Slytherins, dressed up snuggly in thick cloaks, scarfs, hats and warming charms. On the other side: tall and spindly black thestrals, stretching their bony wings.

Harry gets up to a thestral first. “They’re super nice,” he says.

Nolan immediately steps forward. He hesitates, but then quickly moves to the side of a smaller thestral. “Yeah, I’m not scared at all!”

“Lovely, lovely,” Hagrid says, beaming at them all. “Let me get the meat!”

Slytherins, one-by-one, tentatively approach the docile thestrals. Draco shows how playful the younger ones can be, by conjuring up various equestrian jumping obstacles. It is good that the two sides are getting to know each other. This way, they can help each other if Draco is not available.

Hagrid sighs in a self-satisfied manner. Draco gives him a side-long look. Standing next to him is the thestral leader who also has a watchful eye on proceedings.

“You’re not too bad indeed,” Hagrid says, stroking his unkept beard.

Draco inwardly rolls his eyes. “The thestrals are good, proper, wizarding creatures.”

“Eh, of course! I meant Harry. It’s weird to see Harry get along with you Slytherins…”

“Perhaps the _other_ Houses simply didn’t try hard enough, or approached him incorrectly.”

“Hmmm.” Hagrid sounds somewhat unconvinced. He chuckles though when he sees what Harry is doing.

RIght now, Harry is showing some of the Slytherins how to ride a thestral.

Draco sighs lightly and strides over to them. “No flying, Harry. You’re _not_ at all dressed for it.”

Harry pouts. “But _Drraccco_.”

“No buts,” Draco’s voice brooks no argument.

The thestral Harry is on tilts its head a little and starts to trot around them. Harry grins. “You can’t stop us from walking!”

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifts in amusement. “No, I can’t stop you at all.” Then, he helps another Slytherin into the back of another thestral wanting to join in on the fun.

*

Eventually, they return to the Common room to warm up and change clothes. Not long later, in the early afternoon before the Christmas Feast, Harry disappears. It’s not _too_ concerning, as Draco knows that Jamie, Michelle, Aster, _and_ Blaise are with him.

It only starts to get concerning when they’re still not back as Feast—a late lunch, effectively—approaches. Aster sends a message on the badges: _Will meet at Great Hall_.

Draco frowns at the words, while Pansy snorts.

“You’ve really become a mother hen,” she laughs.

“I’m hardly like my mum,” Draco retorts.

Pansy smirks. “If you were, they’ll be quivering in their boots.”

Draco shoots her a sharp look and proceeds to round up all the Slytherins for the Hogwarts Christmas Fest. Everyone is dressed up properly in formal robes.

In the Great Hall, icy chandeliers grace the ceiling, and the air is filled with sparkles. Multiple decorated fir trees line the sides, and the four long tables have been condensed into two.

They sit down on ‘their’ side, and Draco ignores how the remaining Ravenclaws shift to the other table.

Professor McGonagall, seated at the front, casts her gaze across the Hall. Her lips purse. “Which students are missing?”

Draco raises his voice. “There are a number of Slytherin students missing.”

The other students are just about to look at them when Harry and his crew appear at the doors. Harry has a ridiculous pointy red hat on his head and a sack over his shoulder.

“Hi everyone! Sorry I’m a bit late…” Harry grins in that sheepish, charming manner of his.

Draco stares, and Harry dares to _wink_ back at him as he walks past them to the front table along with Jamie and Michelle—Jamie also has a ridiculous pointy green hat.

Aster slips into the bench space in front of Draco. “Don’t worry so much, Draco,” they say. “It’s not explosive.”

Draco raises an eyebrow.

“It’s Christmas, and it’s my last year here,” Harry is saying, getting on the front stage. “And I wanted to show my appreciation for you.” With Jamie’s help, he pulls out a number of wrapped gifts. Checking names, Harry hands one to each amused and confused Hogwarts Professor present. “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas,” Harry says cheerfully.

Then, he hops down and walks over to the other table, where all the non-Slytherin students are gathered.

Draco stares. “I should have _expected_ this,” he sighs, while Pansy has an impressed look on her face.

Blaise takes a seat next to them. Draco gives him a look.

Blaise smiles in response. “It’s Harry.”

The other students—Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors—seem confused when Harry starts handing each of them a gift as well, calling them by name.

Draco raises an eyebrow. It is impossible for Harry to know everyone’s names. _Blaise_ must have aided Harry in this matter.

“Sorry I don’t know you very well,” Harry is telling some of them, “But I hope you like it, I did my best to give you something you might like. And I baked the cookies myself down in the Kitchens.”

And to some of the students he knows, “Sorry we haven’t talked since I resorted to Slytherin. We should catch up, play games some time.”

The guilty students can only bow their heads and mumble a “yes.”

Harry is even giving out _autographs_ to some of the students brave enough to ask. Which is a shame, because there goes Pansy’s masterplan for selling exclusive Harry Potter signings.

And then Harry turns to the Slytherins, and there’s a sparkle in his eye.

“You’ve been a great House,” he says, “And you’ve been so welcoming. So this is just a small token of my appreciation…”

“ _Another_ Christmas present?” Draco hisses when Harry comes up to him. “If I had known—”

“You _can’t_ compete over Christmas presents, Draco,” Harry says, smiling widely. “Here you go.”

“ _Very_ sneaky of you,” Pansy says. “I approve.”

Harry’s smile turns bright and giddy. “Thanks.” He moves on, handing every person in Slytherin a gift.

Around the Great Hall, people are opening up their gifts. Inside, Draco can see an assortment of baked goods—different for different people, no doubt matching their tastes. Different gifts contain different combinations of custom hot chocolate mixes, quills, various Wizard Wheezes items. Everyone also receives a personal little card written by Harry himself. While it is overall generic—even Draco’s gift—the little touches _are_ thoughtful, and it’s hard to be annoyed at all when Harry hands it with that damnable _smile_ and _green eyes_ of his…

Harry’s sincerity is clear.

“Thank you, Harry!” A brave Gryffindor calls out. It leads to a cascade of “thank yous” from everyone else.

Harry beams back. “Happy holidays!”

“You _baked_ this, Harry?” Hagrid says, voice loud across the Great Hall.

“Yeah,” Harry returns brightly.

“It’s fantastic,” Hagrid replies. “C’mere!” And Harry does, only to be wrapped up in a big hug from Hagrid.

The display is so sickening that Draco’s chest tightens and his heart skips a beat. 

Harry returns to the Slytherin table, plopping happily at Draco’s side. Draco half-jokingly pokes at Harry’s peculiar hat, while Harry bats his hands away with a grin.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall lightens, warms, and bright chatter rises into the air.

Draco might have promised to make Christmas day a lively one for Harry...but Harry’s made it lively for everyone.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that concludes the holiday/christmas mini arc LOL.
> 
> **Pansy** : *gives Harry a book on pureblood courting traditions*  
>  **Pansy** : *gives Draco a book on muggleborn courting traditions*  
>  **Pansy** : They have to get a hint now, right? Right???  
>  **Blaise** : Why don't you show them a more explicit hint.... *smirks*
> 
> **Draco** : Wear your warm cloaks, put on your boots, find your scarves...  
>  **Harry** : Yes mum!  
>  **Other Slytherins, following their big brother Harry** : Yes mum!  
>  **Draco** : ...  
>  **Pansy** : *smirking* Oh come now, Draco, are you still surprised?
> 
> **Harry** : You get a present! And you get a present! Everyone [at Hogwarts] gets a present!
> 
> *
> 
> A number of people pointed out the subtle vibes of [daddy] dom Draco and wishwars reminded me that I have a fic that has dom Draco!! It’s called [A Good Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802446)!
> 
> However, this fic will remain rated PG 13 LOL.
> 
> *
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> **Pansy** (to Harry): I have another, secret present for you.  
>  **Harry** : 👀  
>  **Harry** : *opens present* 😳😳😳 !!!!  
> It’s a ⬛⬛⬛⬛ !!  
>  **Pansy** : *smirks* I know that Draco’s jaw will drop if he sees you with this~  
>  **Harry** : (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑  
>  _Meanwhile, Draco is blissfully unaware…._


	20. Chapter 20

The days leading up to the new year continue to be carefree and lively. Harry manages to coax some of the other students to join in on what becomes daily snowball fights across all the houses. Draco resigns himself to maintaining warming charms on everyone, instead of playing himself, because Harry sets the firm rule of No Magic.

At other times, Draco is either in the potions laboratory, teaching the Slytherins some more duelling skills, or otherwise staying in the Slytherin Commons.

Hogwarts calls in the New Year with fireworks out on the front lawns, and then all students are quickly ushered back to bed. (Harry, after Christmas, has returned to his singular bed.)

There are more raucous scenes of fireworks and parties across the country. As the fireworks fade away, the almost full moon becomes the brightest light source in the night sky. Partiers’ exuberance about the new year dissipates as the late night sets in. As the reveries finish, however, not everyone returns to bed.

Or, if they do, they do not stay there.

It is barely three hours past midnight that Draco awakes again—two hours since Draco went to bed after making sure all the Slytherins have gone to sleep.

There’s an insistent tapping on the bedroom door that has woken Draco. He pulls away from Pansy and Blaise.

It’s not a student—It’s his _mother’s_ _owl_ , beak wickedly sharp and eyes gleaming. She flies straight into the room and alights on the back of Draco’s chair.

A chill runs down Draco’s spine as he carefully removes the missive from the owl’s leg. The scroll is small, tight, short.

It reads: _Darling_ , _I do not mean to wake you, but the wards in the Manor are down, and your father is unable to power nor focus the reactivation spells due to the events tonight. My office floo is open._

_Love, your mother_ , signed with a touch of his mother’s magic.

Draco curses. He glances back across the bedroom—Pansy, Blaise, and Harry are still sleeping. In the rooms beyond, the other Slytherins are sleeping. Their bonds tug his chest. He shouldn’t leave them.

But his _first_ loyalties are to his parents. Who has _dared_ to harm his parents?!

Urgently, Draco wakes Pansy up. “I need to go,” he hisses.

Pansy snaps into alertness as she also reads Narcissa’s message. “McGonagall’s floo,” she says quickly, jumping out of bed. “I’m coming with you.”

Draco doesn’t have time to argue. The two of them rush to get dressed. In the clatter, Blaise and Harry wake up.

“You two are in charge while we’re gone,” he tells them.

Blaise nods gravely. Harry tries to protest, but Draco closes the door behind him and Pansy.

They take his broom to McGonagall’s quarters. She doesn’t need much convincing to let them use her floo, but she _does_ come with them as well.

“I cannot let you go by yourself due to the terms of your parole,” she says.

The floo to his mother’s office from the Hogwarts Head Office is _too easy_. There’s no tingle of wards. The Manor is cold.

Swiftly, Draco makes his way through the Manor, his magical senses flaring out. His lips tighten as he takes in the broken glass, smashed artifacts, and ripped portraits. The air is filled with the sizzle of magic, of _trespassers_.

His mother is in the main hall, her hand the Manor’s heartstone where all the central wards should be anchored. Her face is twisted into a grimace, clothes dishevelled, and glints of red blood stain her fingers.

“Mother.”

“ _Draco!_ ” Narcissa’s head snaps up. Her eyes narrow at those behind Draco. “And guests.”

Draco hurries to her side. “What happened?”

“Your father is unconscious in the master suite.” Narcissa’s frown deepens. “He sustained direct damage when Aegis destroyed the wards.”

McGonagall stiffens.

“Pansy,” Draco says.

Pansy nods and quickly heads out.

For a brief moment, Narcissa’s eyes sweep to McGonagall, then back to Draco. “I can focus, if you charge.”

Draco nods, not flinching when Narcissa pulls out a small diamond blade. As the focuser, Narcissa draws her blood first, and then Draco’s. The Manor’s heartstone soaks it up in an instant. Giving up his magic to his mother is instinctual at this point. He feels the way it flows from him to her, how she shapes it before letting it flow into Malfoy Manor.

The Manor stirs in ripples of magic as the fundamental wards return to life. Narcissa releases the spell with a slow exhale. It’ll take days yet before all the wards re-establish, all the while leaving the Manor vulnerable.

Draco feels McGonagall’s assessing look, sharp on the side of his face. Draco ignores it, stepping forward to brush his hands against the heartstone once more. It feels very different from Hogwarts. But he knows intrinsically that the Manor is temporarily stable.

From past experience, Aegis do not return to the scene of their crimes. The fundamental wards will have to do for now.

Narcissa casts a ward over the hearthstone, locking it from further access.

Draco meets his mother’s eyes, and they silently head to the master bedroom. McGonagall follows them.

The master bedroom is just as destroyed as the rest of the Manor. Drawers and bookshelves and personal items are strewn across the floor. The walls show damage—as though Aegis were trying to find any hidden compartments or rooms.

Pansy hovers by the opulent four poster bed, where a pale, unconscious Lucius lays. She turns upon their approach, giving them a look of relief. “He’s fine now, I think,” she says, finishing the healing spell she is casting over Lucius’s prone form.

Narcissa sighs, rushing over to them. “Oh, thank you, dear.”

“I understand he’s under house-arrest. But I can take him to St. Mungos,” McGonagall says.

Narcissa stiffens. “No, thank you,” she says coldly. “I trust Pansy.” She turns away first, casting her own spells on Lucius. With a purse of her lips, she lays a hand on Lucius’s forehead. “He needs rest, now. I really appreciate your work, Pansy.”

Pansy shakes her head. “It’s not much. I had to learn _some_ healing after Draco keeps getting himself into trouble…”

Narcissa gives Draco a _Look_.

_Erk_. 

“Well, I’m glad Draco has friends like you, Pansy,” Narcissa says pointedly. “Now you should go back to bed.”

Draco’s brows draw together. “I can enforce the wards some more.”

Narcissa sighs. “So far, Aegis only strikes a location once. I’ll wait til Lucius wakes up and we’ll redo the wards carefully. He _is_ still head of the Manor.”

“If you may, _explain_ ,” McGonagall interrupts. “Aegis _striking_?”

Narcissa draws to her full height. “Worry not, Headmistress,” she drawls. “For Aegis only strikes Death Eaters, known or suspected. Draco?”

“Yes, Mother.” Their eyes linger for a moment. If it weren’t for the company, Draco might have talked to her more. But he can’t, so he turns on his heels.

“Professor, I have kept you awake long enough,” he says, leading her and Pansy back to his mother’s office.

“Mr Malfoy, if you have any information about Aegis, it should be reported to the Aurors...” McGonagall frowns.

“I’m sure you know, Professor, given that you’re not an Auror despite your qualifications,” Draco says coolly. “When the Aurors are on your side, you call them. When they’re not, you _don’t_.”

“I’m tired,” Pansy prompts, yawning. “Can we go now?”

“...Of course.” McGonagall floos back to Hogwarts first, leaving the connection open so that Pansy and Draco can return.

*

Back at the Slytherin Commons, Draco is unsurprised to see Harry by the central fire. Besides the crackling flames, Harry has activated some low lights around the commons.

“Draco!” Harry jumps to his feet. “Pansy! You’re back.”

“You should be sleeping,” Draco says.

“What happened?”

“It’s sorted.”

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry crosses his arms, refusing to head back up to the dorms.

Draco glances at Pansy. She shrugs and yawns for real this time. “Harry’s a big boy now, isn’t he,” she says.

“Yes, but he’s _Harry Potter_. I can’t have him running off and playing hero.”

“Handcuff him,” Pansy suggests with a wink. 

“I’m right here _,_ ” Harry says, rolling his eyes.

Pansy waves a careless hand. “Sort it out, boys. Our bed is calling me.” Without further ado, she heads up the stairs.

“...My parents were attacked by Aegis,” Draco finally says.

“ _What_?” Harry’s eyes grow wide, and then he starts to frown, his gaze becoming more and more determined as Draco informs him of how Aegis has been targeting various people, families, and homes; only the _tip_ of the going-ons that make it into the papers.

“I’ll contact Kingsley immediately!” Harry says.

Draco grabs his wrist. “Harry, no. I assume McGonagall already has. _Our_ job is to go back to sleep.”

“I’m _not_ going to be _complacent_ ,” Harry scowls.

“And what evidence do you have, aside from my word?”

“Then we’ll _find_ it.”

“At 3 am in the morning? We’re going back to bed— _Salazar_ , look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open!” In exasperation, Draco grabs Harry’s wrist and starts dragging him up to the dorms.

“ _Malfoy!_ ”

“ _Potter_ ,” Draco drawls in kind. “If I have to sleep with you to make you _go to bed_ , then I’ll do it. How would you like to sleep between Pansy and myself this time? Or...Blaise and myself?”

Harry flushes. “You’re bloody changing the subject.”

Draco smirks. “ _Blaise?_ ”

Despite Harry’s blush, his countenance remains stubborn.

“I’m not stopping you. Merlin knows that’s the most pointless endeavour in the universe. However, as your... _housemate_ , I’m advising you to get some rest so that you can embark on your saviour journey in your peak.”

Harry’s eyes search his. Then, finally, slowly, Harry nods. “Fine.”

The two of them enter the Eighth Year rooms. “Bed?” Draco offers, sweeping a hand to where Blaise, and now Pansy, are fast asleep.

“You’re an idiot, Draco,” Harry huffs, and slips into his own bed.

_A pity_ , Draco thinks, only because Harry _is_ their fellow Slytherin Eighth Year. They’ve already slept in the same bed once. Why not continue to do so?

*

When Draco wakes up in the morning, properly, there is another owl from his mother. Draco takes the letter and sits down at his desk.

The letter confirms that his father has woken up. Aurors have also arrived at Malfoy Manor—not due external reports, but because Malfoy Manor is currently monitored due to Lucius’s house arrest, and they eventually noticed a suddenly large influx of people on the property.

_...Do not return to the Manor. Your classes will start again soon: focus on your schooling, and do not worry about myself nor your father_. _Love, your mother._

What an inauspicious start to the new year.

The rustling of blankets alerts Draco. Harry wakes up with lurch.

“Draco…” He has dark shadows under his eyes, but the determination to Do Something is still there.

Draco beckons him over and shows him the letter.

“There is no need for you to personally inform the Minister for Magic.”

Harry’s lips turn down. “Still...but...”

“This is hardly their first attack. It is not urgent.” Draco reaches out and rubs Harry’s head, pressing down. “Now, now, enjoy the last few days of our Winter Break, and let the Minister enjoy his break. You can send him a detailed letter later, okay?”

Harry sighs. “Fine.” He runs a hand through his hair absently, messing it up even more.

The corner of Draco’s lips go up in a sly smile. “In fact, as this is the New Years, perhaps you should think again about your future career options. I recall I gave you a list to think about over the month…”

Harry pales. “Oh. That. Um...About that…”

“Have you lost the list already?” Draco teases.

Harry’s striken expression is amusing _and_ adorable.

“No...I’ll go find it!” Harry heads over to his desk and starts rummaging around.

New Year’s Day ends up being much like the days before. The other students are unaware of Aegis’s latest attack, and there is no point worrying them.

As for Harry...Draco lets him draft various letters to the Minister, to his friends. It is not Draco’s problem if more people become suspicious of Aegis.

***

The next day, Sunday, is the last full day of the Winter Break; on Monday, students who went home will be travelling back to Hogwarts.

Professor Garren returns on Sunday afternoon. Draco is called to a Transfiguration classroom by Professor McGonagall. Harry accompanies him.

Draco opens the classroom door and ushers Harry in.

McGonagall is standing by the front desk, Garren next to her. The rest of the tables and desks have been moved aside, leaving a clear space in the middle.

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall says, lips pursed. “We were not expecting you.”

Harry smiles politely. “Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall, Professor Garren. I’m Draco’s second in all his duels, so I felt it suitable that I come as well.”

Garren tenses, his eyes flicking to McGonagall.

Draco suppresses a smirk, presenting a collected face to McGonagall and Garren. “Shall we, Professor Garren?”

He steps into the cleared space in the classroom, and keeps his gaze steady on the two professors.

Garren stalks to the opposite end of the space. Meanwhile, Harry positions himself a few meters to Draco’s side.

“Remember, Mr Malfoy, you must allow Professor Garren to disarm you, so that his wand ownership returns to him.”

Draco smiles faintly. “Of course.” _Only wand ownership. Not the Head of Slytherin position. McGonagall has not told Garren everything_. Inwardly, Draco smirks.

“Be serious,” Garren says, eyes hard. 

Under McGonagall’s command, both of them draw their wands. Draco sends a touch of magic down his wand. _Be obedient, this is only for a short while_.

Garren raises his wand. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Draco lets go. His wand flies into Garren’s hand.

“I conceded,” Draco says smoothly.

“And the outcome of the duel goes to Professor Garren,” McGonagall declares.

If anything, Garren’s face darkens. Of course, this entire thing is a farce.

“May I have my wand back?” Draco asks politely.

“Of course,” Garren replies with equally fake politeness.

“Very good, thank you for your aid, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall says. “One last matter, though. Mr Potter.”

Harry immediately straightens. “Yes, Professor?”

“What qualities would you recognise in a proper Head of House?”

Harry puts on a thoughtful expression. “They...they need to _care_ for their students. Yeah, they need to teach everyone equally in class. But there’s _more_ than just classes. Like those career meetings. Someone who can listen to their students without prejudice. And actually do something about their problems.”

Harry glances briefly at Draco, before looking back at McGonagall.

“Like how Draco asks if the Slytherins are sleeping well. Like how he stayed back over the Winter Break, because there were other Slytherins who were staying back.”

Garren’s eyes narrow. _He_ hadn’t stayed back.

McGonagall nods as though nothing is the matter. “Very good. You may leave, Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter. Have a good evening.”

Draco gives a smooth bow. “Good day, Professors.”

“Have a good day,” Harry quickly also says. The two of them exit.

Out in the corridor, Draco can’t help but glance at Harry.

“I never knew you had such a high opinion of me,” Draco drawls lightly. A moment after, he frowns a little. “Or how much you noticed.”

“But I notice everything you do.” Harry smirks, and winks. “Need to make sure if you’re up to something, Malfoy.”

Draco inwardly rolls his eyes.

“Say, you haven’t visited the thestrals lately, not since Christmas…”

“I’ll have the opportunity tonight.”

“Eh?”

Draco leans close to Harry, and whispers. “It’s the full moon.”

*

It has been dark for a long while by the time the group of students, plus Madame Pomfrey, head out into the night.

Draco looks over the other students. He has learnt their names along the walk. How curious that all the werewolf students have chosen to stay behind at Hogwarts over the Winter Break.

Madam Pomfrey watches with unhidden concern as the students take their last Wolfsbane potion. That concern grows on her face as she looks at Draco and Harry.

“Mr Malfoy...Mr Potter…”

“We will be both fine,” Draco says.

Harry nods. “Nothing bad happened last time at all.”

Madam Pomfrey’s expression becomes very unamused, especially when she looks at the picnic basket in Harry’s hands. “That is not a good reason to _continue_.”

“I’ll keep Harry safe,” Draco says.

Madam Pomfrey continues to look unamused. “And I suppose Mr Potter will sneak out again once I leave.”

Harry nods earnestly. “Yeah, I would.”

Pomfrey pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Have a safe night, everyone. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Pomfrey walks back to the castle. The remaining students turn hesitantly to Draco.

“I will be setting up a space as before. You are all welcome to join.”

Nolan swallows. “Mr Malfoy…” he says pitifully.

Draco rubs Nolan’s head. “I know it’ll be painful. You can come with me, if you want to Change near me. Come, the moon will be rising soon.”

Nolan drops his head. “...I don’t mind if it’s you, but _Harry Potter_ …”

Draco’s lips quirk in amusement. “He’s an Eighth Year Slytherin too.”

With that, he walks into the Forest. Only Harry and Nolan follow him closely; the other students indeed scatter a little in order to have some privacy in their transformation.

Draco stops at a larger clearing, with a view of the open night sky.

“Harry will look away, won’t he?”

Harry quickly agrees. “Yes, of course.”

Clothes don’t transform with the person. To save clothes, the students have to strip before the transformation occurs. Draco casts a heavy warming charm around the area, so that Nolan isn’t cold as he takes off his clothes. Draco also turns around as the moon rises.

His chest aches as Nolan whines in pain as the transformation sets in.

But, it seems to be one of the pains that won’t transfer to Draco—it’s not as though he can transform into a werewolf in their stead.

Meanwhile, Draco takes out all the items he had prepared, re-enlarging them with a swish of his wand. Very large thick quilts hover an inch above the cold ground, piled high with cushions and blankets. A modified curved shield charm above will keep out any rain or snow, and help keep in the heat.

“Harry, cast some warming charms.”

Harry nods. He sets his picnic basket down and obediently draws his wand.

With Harry’s warming charms, the air around the nest of quilts and blankets is noticeably warm.

Draco hears Nolan’s four feet step across the ground. His transformation is over. He turns around, bringing the dragon a tiny bit closer to his skin. Nolan’s head bows in deference as he slowly pads forward, avoiding Harry. Draco crouches down, and ends up with an armful of wolf.

“Feel better?” Draco pets Nolan.

Nolan whines, pressing his head as deeply as he can against Draco’s chest.

“You should go for a run, stretch your limbs,” Draco says, scrubbing Nolan’s head. “I’ll be right here.”

Nolan grumbles, but he obeys Draco and goes for a run...in what appears to be a star shape, in that he keeps running back to the clearing, then away again.

Draco sits down on one edge of the nest, his expression of fond exasperation.

Harry watches the behaviour with his brows drawn together in thought. “I don’t get it. I know that _animagi_ can accompany werewolves without being attacked. But humans?”

...Little does Harry know.

“Nolan clearly admires me so much that he remembers even in this form,” Draco drawls.

Harry rolls his eyes. “ _Suuure_.” He plops himself next to Draco, and his eyes brighten. “Oh, it’s really warm like this.” He pulls the picnic basket over. “Hot chocolate?”

Their conversation meanders around Nolan’s worship of Draco and cups of hot chocolate. Eventually, Nolan returns, and the other werewolves of all houses arrive. Harry eagerly serves everyone wolf-appropriate food, and soon, full and drowsy wolves pile into the large blankety nest.

The thestrals also come by. Draco gets up to greet them, but the thestral leader doesn’t let her herd play with him long, physically nudging Draco back towards the nest. Clearly, she’s telling him _Go to bed_.

“Well, you heard her,” Draco tells Harry and all the other students. “It’s time for bed.”

“...You can understand thestrals? Threstral-tongue?”

“I can’t _speak_ thestral, you must hear that I’m speaking _English_ ,” Draco drawls. He takes off his boots and situates himself near the middle of the nest. Harry settles down next to him, on the opposite side of Nolan. The students settle around him, fur and legs and tails overlapping, bodies half in, half out of the blankets.

“Don’t be scared, Potter,” Draco says, when he notices Harry shifting closer to Draco, and away from a young wolf-student who is...also shifting towards Draco.

“I’m not scared, Malfoy.”

“Hmm,” Draco hums with an unconvinced tone. He focuses on exuding more heat, so warm that with his robes and with fluffy Nolan half lying on him, he doesn’t need a blanket. His shield above them is almost as good as a cover of his wings would be.

Harry yawns. “So nothing exciting happened at all. No rituals…”

“...We had a Yule ritual just over a week ago.”

“Hm…” Harry closes his eyes, snuggling closer to the source of heat. “G’night.”

“Sweet dreams.” Draco strokes Nolan absently, as everyone burrows into the blankets, settles down, and falls asleep.

The Forest is abound with sounds around them, but they are nonetheless distant. No malcontent creature dares to approach them.

In his sleep, Harry’s lips are set in the slightest frown, his eyelashes dark and thick. Draco’s hand itches, an urge building his chest. He reaches out and rubs Harry’s curls.

In his sleep, Harry takes the opportunity to snuggle even closer to the warmth, pressing right up against Draco’s side.

Draco swallows heavily. He can’t move his arm back to his side, instead forced to leave it outstretched around Harry.

Somehow, it feels different from when Pansy is sleeping next to him.

But it doesn’t feel _unnatural_ at all. Here, with Harry, with all the wolves, in the middle of the Forest with the full moon above in the sky, Draco feels perfectly comfortable.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine: Draco's wings covering up all the kids....safe and sound and warm...
> 
> Re: the snowball fights  
>  **Jamie** : *pats Draco's arm, very serious* Sorry, sir, but you can't play with us. Because you melt all the snowballs, no one wants you on your team  
>  **Draco** : ...  
>  **Jamie** : *gives Draco a hug* BUT! You're very warm and good for hugs!  
>  **Nolan** : Hey! *tackles Draco in a hug*  
>  **Harry** : 🥺🥺  
>  **Draco** : ......................
> 
> **McGonagall** : So, what are the properties of a good head of house?  
>  **Harry** : *listing* Being caring, equal treatment, listening to problems...  
>  **Garren** : *is getting stabbed by arrows at each listed item*
> 
> Full moon night:  
>  **Nolan** : *acting all sticky, stays as close to Draco as he can*  
>  **Harry** : ... 😑😑 this kid...  
>  **Nolan** : *smirks at Harry as he gets pets from Draco*
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*
> 
> In the nest of blankets in the Forbidden Forest, under the full moon, Harry curls up under Draco's arm... Unfortunately, Harry hasn't had the opportunity to set a time to be alone with Draco and show off Those Items, but Harry is ready to play the long game! Just...after he wakes up...so cosy and warm....zzzzzzzzzz  
>  **Draco** : *absently runs his hand through Harry's hair* He is really cute.........
> 
> *in _another_ alternate universe*  
>  _Draco glances at Pansy. She shrugs and yawns for real this time. “Harry’s a big boy now, isn’t he,” she says._  
>  _“Yes, but he’s Harry Potter. I can’t have him running off and playing hero.”_  
>  _“Handcuff him,” Pansy suggests with a wink._  
>   
>  Later:  
>  **Draco** : *seriously looking over an...adult toys....catalogue for discreet owl order*  
> Even more later:  
> Draco ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ and Harry ⬛⬛⬛⬛ and then ⬛⬛⬛⬛….
> 
> lol, I really should write some smut oneshots maybe?? Google form~ <https://forms.gle/CL7TxeBcrUgQ2dnE7>


	21. Chapter 21

Harry wakes up the next morning feeling like he doesn’t want to wake up. It’s warm and cosy and soft and he instinctively feels that it would be cold the moment he moves away.

There’s the sound of rustling blankets.

“...You all get dressed first, there’s some chocolate in the basket…” Draco’s voice is low and husky, and surprisingly close.

Harry makes a face, eyes still closed. “Ehhh?” he mumbles.

A hand ruffles his hair.

“It’s morning,” comes Draco’s amused voice.

Harry’s eyes snap open. He looks up, and meets Draco’s bright grey gaze.

“Ah! It’s morning!” Harry shuffles back and sits up. It immediately feels colder. Harry shivers and makes to grab a blanket.

“Put on your cloak,” Draco says, handing Harry his glasses.

He sees that everyone else is now back in human form and dressed, and they have all clearly seen him lying close to Draco…

Harry’s ears burn, and he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes directly. Instead, he quickly puts on his cloak and fusses with it instead.

*

Once everyone is standing, Draco puts away all the blankets and cushions and quilts. Together, they leave the Forest. Harry has somewhat recovered, as he hands out some pre-prepared hot drinks from his picnic basket.

Madame Pomfrey is waiting for them outside, her face tight with worry. “Oh good, you’re all safe,” she says, running diagnostics over them all.

“We told you it would be fine,” Harry says.

However, Draco’s eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”

Pomfrey gives a slight shake of her head. “Come, quickly head back to the castle.”

Draco quickly checks the bonds in his chest, but no Slytherin has been injured. The group splits up once they enter Hogwarts, with Draco farewelling the students from the other houses.

Breakfast is held in the Slytherin Commons, and they find out what’s wrong when the morning owls arrive.

> _**DIAGON RAVAGED IN GREYBACK ATTACK—NO AEGIS TO BE FOUND!** _
> 
> _In what some speculate is revenge for Aegis’s raids on Knockturn Alley last year, Diagon Alley inhabitants were in for a nasty shock when werewolves attacked, led by the suspected Fenrir Greyback._
> 
> _Properties and shops were smashed. Brave residents joined together to fight the werewolves, and Aurors eventually arrived on scene and drove off the werewolves._
> 
> _The Department Of Magical Law Enforcement sent out a statement: “Our dedicated taskforce for fighting against Greyback is working hard to track him and his werewolves down for justice.”_
> 
> _However, residents of Diagon Alley are not happy._
> 
> _“Where was_ Aegis _?” a witch resident told this reporter. “My son is in St. Mungos now!”_
> 
> _Diagon Alley shopkeeper told the_ Daily Prophet _: “Aegis? Aurors? We **didn’t** need them! We dealt with the bloody werewolves by ourselves!”_
> 
> _Is this a sign that Aegis is closing up operations? An analysis finds that Aegis has failed to counter most Dark Wizard attacks..._

On the second page, there is an ad that proclaims: **We all have the responsibility to scout out dark magic and report it. Only by working together, can we rid our country of evil**. 

And on the third page, is a rehashed article on how to identify and fight against werewolves.

Draco hands the paper to a curious Harry Potter, who then pales.

“This…”

“Well, we all know where Aegis likely was,” Draco says drily.

Harry’s brows pinch together. “You mean raiding houses?”

Draco nods.

How little does _The Daily Prophet_ know. Aegis’s plan is not to make _themselves_ famous per-se, but to drive anti dark-wizard, anti-Death Eater, anti-“dark” creature sentiment. Letting Greyback rip his way through Diagon Alley plays perfectly into their plans.

Unfortunately, both Greyback and Aegis are clearly focused more on South England, than Scotland where Hogwarts lies.

After breakfast, Draco talks to Aster and Blaise, planning to hand out badges to the students he was with during the full moon. They may not be Slytherins...but now, Draco can’t let them suffer outside of the night.

*

Normally, students returning from the Winter Break may drag their feet a little, but they are ultimately happy to see their friends again. However, with the news of Greyback’s attack, there is a dark aura over the Castle’s students.

Harry waits with Draco at the front doors of Hogwarts; Draco for the other Slytherins, and Harry for Ron and Hermione.

Draco welcomes the returning Slytherins and leaves, while Harry remains with his two old friends.

“Harry…” Hermione starts, a little hesitant.

Harry was planning to jump straight into Aegis and Greyback and his anger about it all—but he bites down his words and forces out a smile instead, grabbing Ron and Hermione both into a big hug.

“Hermione, Ron! How was the winter break? Christmas? Did you eat a lot of food?”

“Well, it was summer in Australia—” Hermione starts.

“Tell me more,” Harry prompts. The three of them walk up to Gryffindor tower, talking each about their different Christmas experiences.

Harry makes sure not to say anything about the Yule ritual. However, he does talk about the daily snow fights and feeding the thestrals. He even shows off the scarf that the second year Slytherins got him.

“...Sounds like you had a good time,” Hermione finally says.

“Yes.” Harry pauses, looking around hesitantly.

They’re now in the Gryffindor Eighth Year Girls’ dorm. Aside from Hermione, only Parvati Patil stays here.

Parvati catches Harry’s look. “Don’t mind me, I’m going off to see my sister,” she says, and promptly leaves.

Seeing Parvati reminds Harry of Lavender Brown, who has not returned to Hogwarts. Lavender Brown, who is now a werewolf.

Hermione casts a privacy charm. “What is it?” she prompts.

“You both received my letter, right?” Harry says.

Hermione’s expression darkens. “Yes. If what Malfoy told you is correct, then that may explain why, since Aegis’s beginning, they have done nothing about Greyback. I looked back over the news appearances, and in fact Aegis intercepts only minor dark wizards.”

Ron scratches his head. “The thing I don’t understand is why we haven’t heard about these Aegis raids. If they _really_ did raid so many pureblood houses, you’d think someone told the papers. At least a _rumour_ , you know?”

“Maybe it’s being suppressed,” Harry says gloomily. “The Aurors now know about the raid on Malfoy Manor, but we haven’t heard anything in the papers, have we?”

Hermione’s face sours. “...You’re right.”

“It’s not _just_ Greyback. The Aurors need to catch Aegis too,” Harry says. “I already wrote to Kingsley.”

“Hopefully he can do something…” Hermione says, a little unconvinced. Catching Harry’s expression, she says, “Just because he used to be a senior Auror doesn’t mean he’s in control of them _now_. There are _a lot_ of things to do now to clean up the Ministry.”

Harry grimaces. “I know…”

“I’ll keep an eye out about Aegis, though,” Hermione placates. “We should ask if Luna or her father have heard anything…”

They talk a little more about Greyback’s attack, and what is being done in the aftermath.

Then, Hermione says, “Harry...tell us the _truth_ , how was it in Slytherin?”

“Mum asked about you,” Ron adds. “She was ready to floo to Hogwarts and bring you back for Christmas.”

Harry replies sarcastically, “Did she ask about whether I was going to get back with Ginny?”

Ron’s sheepish expression says everything.

“Actually…” Harry’s heartbeat picks up. Hermione and Ron are still his friends. His closest friends. Given that he told Pansy so easily… “I talked with Pansy and told her…”

_Thump thump thump_ , goes his heart.

Hermione has an open, patient expression. Ron simply blinks.

“...That I’m bi. Bisexual.” Harry stops himself before he says anything about Pansy and the others. It’s not his place to tell.

“I just thought you should know…”

Hermione’s eyes have narrowed, but the slightly off expression quickly disappears. “Harry, I’m glad you told us,” she says warmly. “It must have been hard. We won’t treat you any differently, right, Ron?”

Ron jolts. “Yeah, of course. Turns out you’re bi, huh...If you tell Mum, she might set you up with a guy.”

Harry doesn’t reply to Ron, feeling a little off in his heart. Instead, he accepts Hermione’s hug.

“Isn’t it dinner now?” Harry prompts.

Ron immediately jumps up. “Let’s go!”

Down at the Great Hall, after waving to Draco across the Hall, Harry sits with Ron and Hermione, along with Neville and Ginny to catch up with them.

Ginny sighs. “If I had known you were having snowball fights, I would have stayed. _Anything_ to get away from Mum pestering me about kissing up to you.”

Harry’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry about that, Gin.”

However, Neville, Ron, and Hermione are clearly happy that they weren’t at Hogwarts over the Winter Break.

“...Did you know anyone who lived in Diagon Alley?” Harry eventually asks.

Neville shakes his head. “It’s almost like the war again…” he says darkly.

“Except both sides are getting raided,” Harry mutters. “This is a big mess. Why is there such a mess?” He stuffs the last of the chocolate pudding in his mouth. “Anyway, I better get going.” Across the Hall, there is only Draco and a handful of other Slytherins—the rest of the Slytherins have left already. Harry’s not surprised that sticky Nolan is one of the Slytherins remaining.

“...Yes, have a good night, Harry,” Hermione says.

The others give their farewells, and Harry hops off the bench and heads over to Draco’s side.

Draco looks up. “Ready to leave?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles unconsciously, and they all head back to the Slytherin Commons.

*

Hermione watches Harry’s receding back. Seven years together and now he prefers the Slytherins over them…

And what prompted Harry to come out to them? Does he have a male crush? A _Slytherin male_ crush?

Of course she wants Harry to have friends who aren’t herself. But that doesn’t stop the bitterness in her chest.

*

Harry’s amazed that he forgot about sleeping arrangements until bedtime comes round. Because it’s the night before classes begin, Draco has cracked down on everyone’s work, including Harry’s. He didn’t have time to think about other things.

But now, Harry finds it hard to look at Draco, who is lounging in the big bed reading a book. Images of the morning paint themselves vividly across Harry’s eyes.

_I can’t believe I **snuggled** up with Draco...I can’t believe other people saw me…_

Draco looks up from his book. “Come into bed now, Harry. Which side do you want to sleep on?”

“I…”

Pansy exits the bathroom, eyes lighting up. “Harry! You’re sleeping with us again?”

“Hm, he had no trouble sleeping yesterday night,” Draco says.

Harry sticks his bottom lip out. “Ugh, seriously, Malfoy…” he mutters.

Draco smirks. “Oh? You only want to sleep with me every full moon?”

“Harry can sleep between me and you,” Pansy says. “That way, we _both_ can share him.”

Harry looks between the two of them. “What’s this about sharing me?” he says. “What if I want to sleep with Blaise?”

At that moment, Blaise enters the room.

Blaise’s lips curl up into a magnetic smile. “You’re more than welcome to sleep with me.”

“...I’m sleeping on the outside,” Harry finally crumbles. He waits for Pansy to get into bed first, before lying down by her side.

Lying on Blaise’s side just feels a bit too...dangerous.

“Don’t be polite,” Pansy chides. She pulls him in closer.

“Okay, okay.” Harry shifts a little closer, and then takes out the quidditch book Hermione gave him. He’s hardly reading it though.

It’s not as warm and cozy...but it’s not as though Harry can change his mind now, and he feels guilty at the thought of taking Pansy’s place next to Draco.

Not to mention how it would _look_ if he asks to be close to Draco. He doesn’t want the others to have misconceptions about him!

“Sleep time, I’m _nox_ ’ing the lights in a few minutes,” Draco eventually says.

“Harry, are you _sure_ you don’t want to swap places with me?” Pansy asks.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Harry puts his book on the bedside table along with his glasses, and closes his eyes.

“If you say so…”

Draco whispers a quiet, “ _Nox_ ,” and darkness descends against Harry’s eyelids.

_...Why did I decline Pansy’s offer??_ Feeling a little grumpy at himself, Harry falls asleep.

***

Early the next morning, before breakfast, the house-elves privately deliver the new badges to the students Draco cared for on the night of the full moon, along with a set of instructions on the badges, and a bar of chocolate. These badges will personally communicate with Draco, if the need arises. They also look different from the badges the other Slytherins have, with designs based on the other houses.

With the entire night for tensions to fester, breakfast at the Great Hall is filled with low voices.

_“...Mary isn’t back yet.”_

_“Her family lives on Diagon Alley, don’t they?”_

_“Shit! Is she hurt?”_

_“I don’t know, I haven’t heard anything—”_

_“Those bloody werewolves!”_

_“Shhh! Everyone knows there are werewolves at Hogwarts this year…Be careful they don’t bite you!”_

_“Hahaha!”_

There are students with lowered heads, fingers tight as they read the latest anti werewolf tirade in the papers.

There are students with guilty looks towards certain housemates, towards Harry.

When Harry attempts to greet a student from Ravenclaw who had participated in the winter break daily snowfights, the student gives the briefest of return greetings and hurries away.

Harry’s face falls. Draco pats him gently on the back.

“They must consider their personal situation,” Draco says quietly. “If they show camaraderie to Slytherins so blatantly after Greyback’s attack, they may well be targeted in their House.”

Harry’s shoulders slump. “I can’t believe it faded so quickly…”

*

“Focus!”

“Everyone, please focus!”

“Look towards the front, please!”

These are phrases Aster keeps hearing from the Professors over the next few days.

Currently, their Defence Against The Dark Arts professor is at the front of the classroom, setting out their newest assignment.

“...Now write that down, it’ll be due in at the end of next week.”

“Sir!” A Gryffindor puts up her hand. “Are we going to learn about werewolves next?”

The Defence Professor frowns slightly. “Ms Adams, if you recall, I detailed our entire course plan in the very first lesson of the year. Werewolves are _not_ on our agenda. Seeing that you have finished copying down the assignment, why don’t you turn to page 300 of your textbook and start reading ahead?”

“...Yes, sir.” She slouches back down in her seat.

Aster glances at Mesa. Mesa gives them a weak smile in response, bumping their elbows together lightly.

**

On Thursday afternoon, after classes, both Draco and Harry are called up to McGonagall’s Head Office.

Harry quirks his lips. “Do you think it’s you in trouble, or me in trouble?”

Draco ruffles his hair with a smirk. “You.”

“Hey!” Harry ruffles his own hair again.

They enter McGonagall’s office. Inside, McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror Hitchly and Auror Bartholomew are waiting for them.

Harry’s eyes widen. “Kingsley! You’re here!”

The Minister smiles slightly. “I received your letter. These two Aurors were coming down to question Mr Malfoy, and I took the opportunity to come along.”

Draco glances at Harry. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Harry’s on a first-name basis with the Minister for Magic.

“Take a seat, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall says.

They do: such that the Minister and the Aurors are together on one side, with Harry and Draco on the other.

“I’ll begin first,” Shacklebolt says. “I am aware of Aegis’s raid on Malfoy Manor...but the Aurors are stretched thin. They always have been, but it’s been worse after the War. It’ll take at least two years, more, to train up more Aurors. At this point in time, Greyback is the bigger threat. And none of those attacked by Aegis have come forward to file a report.”

Harry frowns. “So you’ll just pretend that nothing happened?”

“No, Harry, I have to prioritise,” Shacklebolt says. “I know it is frustrating, but we all need to bear with it.”

Harry makes a grumpy expression. “Fine.”

Shacklebolt nods. “Good, I’ll be in contact with you in the future, okay?” It sounds like he’s treating Harry as a young child, which Draco does _not_ appreciate from an outsider.

The Minister stands up. “Well, I’ll take my leave here. Aurors Hitchly and Bartholomew will be questioning Mr Malfoy, so Harry, you are also free to leave.”

“I want to stay right here, Draco will tell me everything anyway,” Harry says.

“Now, that’s highly unprofessional,” Auror Hitchly says.

“Professor? It’s _your_ office…” Harry says.

McGonagall’s lips quirk up, just a little. “Mr Potter may stay. He is a trustworthy wizard, and we are not discussing state secrets.”

“Very well,” Shacklebolt nods to everyone. “I’ll be off. Have a good day.”

Everyone farewells Shacklebolt, and he floos away back to the Ministry.

Auror Hitchly snorts. “Well, we have many things on the agenda. Mr Malfoy, you have been _very busy_ lately.”

Draco smiles complacently. “Yes, there were many NEWTs assignments before the end of Winter break.”

Hitchly sneers. “You entered Malfoy Manor.”

Draco smiles coolly. “Yes, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.”

“Tell me the precise order of events.”

“I received my mother’s owl…” Draco gives a brief summary of what happened. He has nothing in this matter to hide pertaining to what Aegis had done.

“I understand that the Aurors should have been guarding Malfoy Manor. Our wards were weakened under Ministry decree, so I sincerely hope that the Ministry will provide some compensation.”

Auror Hitchly bristles. “What compensation?” he sneers. “You should be compensating _us_.”

“Then perhaps you should allow my father to reinstate stronger wards.”

“— _Next_ , the Diagon Alley raid,” Auror Bartholomew interrupts. “What were you doing the night of the 2nd?”

Draco glances at Harry and smiles. “Harry and myself were sleeping in the Forbidden Forest. Madam Pomfrey and the thestrals can attest.”

Draco describes their perfectly innocent actions of camping under the stars and the full moon that night, making no mention of any werewolves— 

“On the _night of the full moon_ ,” Bartholomew repeats, eyes narrowed. “Did you encounter any werewolves?”

Draco’s eyes darken a fraction. “Yes. Clearly, none of them harmed myself nor Harry.”

“And none of them were Greyback,” Harry says crossly. “Wasn’t he down at Diagon Alley? How could he also be all the way up at Hogwarts? Can he apparate across the entire country in werewolf form? How many people can even do that? If you think _every_ werewolf is in contact with Greyback, then I guess you’re interrogating _every_ wizard whenever there is a dark wizard attack—”

“Don’t interrupt, Mr Potter,” Bartholomew says darkly. “You are not part of this investigation.”

“I’m Draco’s alibi, I definitely think I’m part of it.” Harry crosses his arms, scowling. “What has become of the Auror department? Maybe I should file a report to Kingsley…”

_Heh_ , Draco thinks fondly of Harry’s angry face.

While Bartholomew splutters, Hitchly jumps back onto questioning Draco.

“Now, now, Mr Malfoy,” Hitchly says. “There is the matter of your _duelling_ announcement, and daring to fight with your own professor.”

“Oh, I’m a part of this too,” Harry says unrepentantly, glaring down Hitchly next. “From what I understand, Professor Garren unfortunately was both the provoker, _and_ the one who cast the first spell…”

“Give me your wand,” Hitchly demands of Draco.

Draco smoothly hands over his wand. Under Hitchly’s prodding, the recent spells casted by the wand comes out. There is absolutely nothing incriminating.

Hitchly finally grunts, clearly not finding what he wanted. He hands back the wand with bad grace, saying, “I hope you’re aware that your duelling challenge is a strike on your parole record, Mr Malfoy. Another strike and we’ll be legally allowed to take you down to the Ministry cells.”

Draco’s eyes sharpen. “Is that so. The issuing of duelling challenges is a time-honoured tradition of the wizarding world. Any one who accepts is consenting.”

Hitchly smirks back. “I’m your parole officer, and your actions were clearly inciting violence.”

_If inciting violence is a crime, why haven’t they arrested the Daily Prophet?_

McGonagall stands up. “If there is nothing else, this interrogation is over,” she says sharply.

“Of course, Headmistress,” Hitchly says. “However, we both have questions for you as well.”

McGonagall gives the two Aurors an impassive glance. Her gaze softens a touch when she turns to Draco and Harry.

“Now off you two go.”

After farewells, the two leave.

Outside, Harry gives a huge frustrated sigh. “Well, that was useless. I wished everything just _ended_ with the War.”

“If wars were enough to stop _this_ , then we would only have one war.”

Harry grunts.

“You can’t protect everyone.” Draco’s lip curls up wryly. “For one, the purebloods that Aegis are attacking won’t even _want_ your protection.”

“That’s still—they should be protecting everyone _anyway_. How were they even slow to respond to that attack on Diagon Alley? It’s not like it was in the middle of nowhere!”

Draco pats Harry on the back. “Unfortunately, there is this _thing_ called politics…”

Harry makes a face. “I know.” He slumps. “Anyway, I was planning to hang out with Hermione and Ron after dinner, we have some Magical Creatures work to do.”

“Don’t forget your scarf, it’ll be cold in the castle at night.”

Harry’s eyes finally brighten. “Yes, mum.”

Draco narrows his eyes. “Dare you to repeat that to my face?”

“Mum?” Harry laughs and runs before Draco can tackle him.

**

Richard Garren smiles politely as he invites Aurors Michael Hitchly and Ellias Bartholomew into his office.

“Tea?”

“If you put a shot of firewhiskey in it,” Hitchly scowls, sitting heavily on the sofa.

Garren’s eyes narrow. “I take it your interrogation did not go well.”

“Mr fancy Harry Potter decided to butt in,” Hitchly says. He accepts the cup alcoholic tea.

“He should not be intervening with our work,” Bartholomew scowls.

“Malfoy has corrupted him,” Garren says darkly.

“Yeah, Richard, let me see your wand.”

Garren hands his wand over to Hitchly. After a set of spells, Hitchly hands it back grumpily.

“McGonagall wouldn’t even let me give Malfoy a _detention_ for his actions. She’s covering up for him,” Garren complains.

Bartholomew sneers. “We know. Her and Harry Potter...if only Shacklebolt didn’t become the Minister.”

“Then he would become Head Auror instead,” Garren points out.

“Either way, Potter likes to meddle anyway. _Just_ because he happened to hit You-Know-Who,” Bartholomew huffs.

Hitchly’s eyes suddenly spark, a sly smile growing on his lips. “If Potter wants to help catch Greyback...then let him help. Listen to me…”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Harry** : *wakes up, snuggled by Draco’s side* !!!!!!  
> In his embarrassment, he has completely forgotten that the other students were also snuggled up with Draco through the night…
> 
> **Aurors** : *Try to question Draco*  
>  **Harry** : No, not on my watch! 😠😠  
>  **Draco** : *thinking: hehehe, Harry is so cute*
> 
> **Draco** : Don't forget your scarf.  
>  **Harry** : Yes, mum.  
>  **Draco** : (≖_≖ )  
> later:  
>  **Draco** : Don't forget your scarf.  
>  **Nolan** : Yes, mum.  
>  **Harry** : Hahaha he called you mum too!!  
>  **Nolan** : I'm not the same as you, Harry Potter!  
>  **Harry:** hahahaha!  
>  **Draco** : ………………………………..
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*  
>  **Harry, in class:** *daydreaming about snuggling up with Draco*  
>  **Harry, after class** : *daydreaming about snuggling up with Draco*  
>  **Harry, in bed** : *snuggling up with Draco* uwu  
>  **Pansy** : Are you _sure_ you’re not dating?  
>  **Draco** : We’re not!  
>  **Pansy** : ...Forget it, you’re both definitely dating.  
>  **In the middle of the night, Draco:** …!!!!! Are we dating????
> 
> *meanwhile, in another alternate universe*  
>  **Draco** : *pushes Harry down onto the bed* Don’t call me mum. Call me daddy.  
>  **Harry** : *wet eyes, flushed cheeks* Da-daddy.  
>  **Draco** : Good boy.  
> (Internal Draco: fuckk!!!! Too cute!! !!!!!!!)  
>  **[Call Me Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359855), the explicit PWP~**
> 
> Results so far from the google form poll… most you want me to write a smutty extra for Under Dragon Wings (or maybe smutty alternate universe?? hahaha comment down below if you have any particular requests~), followed by more main story content. I wrote [Call Me Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359855) and I have some more vague PWP ideas. And I’ll do my best to update some extra chapters at some unknown time 🙈


	22. Chapter 22

In the Hogwarts Library, low voices murmur, parchments rustle, and quills scritch under students’ diligent hands. 

Harry is writing his Magical Creatures essay. Ron is doing a similar thing next to him, while Hermione is staring at her own work with a critical eye.

Harry happily puts the last full stop on his essay. “Done!”

Ron makes a face. “What, already? Let me see.”

“Here.”

Hermione gives them both a disappointed look.

“It’s not like Ron can copy my exam answers. You’re acting as though looking at my essay won’t make Ron’s essay _worse_ ,” Harry says jokingly.

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’m surprised Malfoy let you out here alone, actually. You Slytherins seem to be tighter than ever.”

 _Because Draco doesn’t play roulette with safety_. Harry’s lips quirk up in amusement. “Hermione, did you really not notice? Behind you, just over there...”

Hermione immediately whips her head around, her expression becoming complicated. 

Indeed, a few desks over, Draco, Pansy, Felicity, Aster, and Mesa are researching things that seem to require really intimidating looking books.

“—And speaking of Draco, look at this new quill he gave me,” Harry says, drawing Hermione’s attention back. He shows off the sleek black quill with a golden nib. “It has a handwriting correction charm.”

“I assume that explains the neatness of your recent writing,” Hermione says.

Ron, in contrast, makes a face. “He gave you a _quill_ for Christmas??! What kind of present is that?” He lowers his voice, whispering to Harry, “I think he still hates you…”

Harry can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry, Ron.” He fiddles with his quill, and decides to take out some other homework; he’ll only leave once Draco and the others finish.

***

“ _I know you’re a werewolf._ ”

The third year Gryffindor Alice Mistle shivers in fright at the whisper, quickly looking up at the speaker. They’re both in the Gryffindor Common room and there are _people around_.

Mary sneers. “I sincerely hope you weren’t helping out Greyback that night,” she continues in a quiet, threatening tone.

Alice gulps. She knows that Mary’s family lives on Diagon Alley, but there isn’t a trace of injury on Mary, nor any ‘feeling’ of a wolf. “Mary, you’re back. It’s good to see that you’re well—”

“No thanks to fucking Greyback. He’s bloody lucky that he _only_ destroyed our home. It’s not hard to see who sneaks out on the nights of the full moon, now that I think about it.” Mary’s eyes flash. “Watch your back.”

Alice smiles politely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Since you’re back, Harry Potter gave us some extra chocolate to hand out to those who weren’t here during the Winter Break.”

“No thank you, I don’t want that _traitor_ ’s things.” Mary tosses her head and stalks over to Ben Taylor’s group, the vocal dissidents in Gryffindor.

Alice slips her hand into her robes, fingers curling tightly around the lion badge in her pocket.

_Doesn’t she understand? Don’t other people understand? Don’t you know that **I hate Greyback too?**_

*

“You say that again!” Nolan snarls, fists clenched.

He’s in the middle of Potions. He doesn’t care, because the stupid Gryffindors are backmouthing Mr Malfoy and Harry Potter and werewolves and he _**hates them!**_

The Gryffindor boys smirk. “So easily riled up. Bet you’re a werewolf.”

“You arsehole!”

One of the Gryffindor boys laugh. “If you’re not a baby Death eater, then you’re a werewolf. I heard you Slytherins holed up in your dungeons the entire Winter Break. You should go back there, we don’t want to see your face.”

“Haha, I’ve seen Malfoy pat you Slytherins’ hair. Something _salacious_ we should be notifying the Aurors about?”

“HOW DARE YOU!”

Nolan launches forward, tackling the bastards. To his side, Harley immediately joins the fight. They draw wands; fighting in such close quarters, there’s no need to aim, just cast!

“Ow, ow, ow! Professor! Help! He’s gone rabid!”

“What the—!” Nolan is thrown back, slamming against the wall by Garren’s spell. Harley is also thrown back.

Thankfully, the badge in his pocket means that it doesn’t hurt when his head knocks against the wall. He glares up at Garren.

“How dare you two start a fight in _my class_ ,” Garren says coldly. “Don’t think I’ll treat you lightly just because I’m your Head of House. Detention!”

 _You’re no head of house!_ Nolan clenches his teeth, anger burning in his belly.

*

_“Did you hear? One of the Slytherin werewolves went rabid…”_

_“He attacked students in **class!** ”_

_“Did he bite anyone?”_

_“Fuck, that’s scary to think about…”_

*

Friday evening cannot come fast enough. At the end of the day, Pansy collapses tiredly on the Eighth Year’s throne sofa. “There are _definitely_ more students out for our blood these days.”

Draco’s eyes darken. “Yes.”

Before, it had been mostly muggleborns. But now, it’s shifted to halfbloods and purebloods—halfbloods and purebloods who had been on the right side. The kind of people who would have been on Diagon Alley on New Years Eve.

It’s verbal, mostly. That kind of leery isolation. It is not the Hogwarts environment Draco was hoping for in the new year. The start has definitely been inauspicious.

“What happened to just last week,” Pansy grumbles.

“I’m heading the potions lab.”

“Hm, go,” Pansy waves him off.

In the potions laboratory, Draco has a number of potions running, both new protective potions for the badges, and healing potions—just in case.

“Hey, Draco,” Aster greets. They roll their eyes when Draco starts checking the potions. “I can look after your potions perfectly well, you know,” they say drily. “And Vaisey is right here to help.”

Vaisey Owler’s head perks up at the sound of his name. “Oh, Draco! You’re here! When me and the team were heading back from practice, it felt like the staircases were off…”

Draco’s eyes narrow.

“None of us got hurt or anything...but Mesa nearly fell, right at the base of the stairs.”

Aster’s gaze whips to Vaisey. “Wait, what? How is she?”

“She’s fine.”

“I’ll go see to it immediately.” Draco nods to the two of them and heads out.

As he nears the stairs, he catches the sound of students. He hangs back, eyes narrowing as they ‘ _discuss matters’_.

With loud footstops, he approaches them.

“What are _you_ all doing here?” He raises one eyebrow at the way the group of Ravenclaws jump back from the statue base they were messing with.

“This isn’t _Slytherin land_ ,” one of the bigger Ravenclaws mutters.

But when Draco idly strolls up to him, drawing heat at his fingertips, the Ravenclaws scamper back and leave.

Draco glances up at the statue. “Mind telling me what they were doing?” he asks.

The statue—a figure of a wizard—makes a haughty face. “Meddling with Hogwarts’ magic, that’s what,” he grumbles.

Draco hums and crouches down. If he focuses, he can feel Hogwarts’ pulse, much like a wound. Draco suffuses in his magic and releases whatever half-formed hexes those Ravenclaws were attempting. The backlash catches Draco on the back of his hand, cutting deep. It heals barely a minute later.

Draco then checks the staircase, finding the tripping jinx at the base of the stairs as Vaisey suspected. Juvenile and a waste of everyone’s time. Draco slices through the hex with ease. He slowly ascends the stairs, checking the fabric of magic along the way. He pushes in more of his own magic, overlaying it with Hogwarts, strengthening the fabric of magic and tightening the gaps in the weave that allow for hexes and jinxes to take hold.

There’s another trip hex at the top of the staircase, which Draco deftly deals with.

_Do they not learn? Or has Aegis contacted a different set of students…_

_“GRRMMOEW!!!_ ”

“ _A student, Mrs. Norris?_ ”

Draco brings the dragon a little closer to the surface just as Mrs Norris launches herself at him. Her claws dig into his robes, but not through his scale-plated skin underneath.

“Now, now,” he says, showing just a hint of sharp teeth. If anything, Mrs Norris _likes_ it. Draco brings more heat to his hands, and Mrs Norris starts purring like mad, pressing up against the warmth. Draco’s eyes show a hint of amusement. If only he had known how easy it was to win Mrs Norris over when he was younger.

Draco strides forward, meeting Flich right at the corner.

“... _Tch_ ,” Flich grimaces. “You again. Malfoy. Get away from him, Mrs Norris!”

Mrs Norris yowls in protest and doesn’t budge an inch.

Like Blaise, Draco requests permission, and then casts a warming charm on Filch. He tries to hand Mrs Norris over, but she refuses, pulling at Draco’s (expensive!) robes.

“Allow me to accompany you briefly while Mrs Norris remains in her...current state,” Draco says.

Filch’s grimace deepens. “It’s almost curfew.” He casts a distrustful look at Draco, and a look of distaste at Mrs Norris in Draco’s arms.

“I’m an Eighth Year student,” Draco reminds him.

“Fine, come along,” Filch snaps.

Draco ends up cleaning up some flooding in a corridor; spelling away graffiti from the walls along another corridor. However, Filch stops him when he points his wand at a defaced portrait.

“You can’t _wave_ a wand at a portrait!” Filch snaps. Throwing a glare at Draco, Filch steps closer to the portrait. He shoos its occupant out—a witch who has escaped unscathed—and tugs the portrait from the wall.

“Don’t give me that look,” Filch says without looking at Draco. “This painting needs proper repair, and I ain’t doing it in the middle of the corridor.”

Filch’s office, it turns out, is on the ground floor. The inside is filled with confiscated items, a handful of empty portraits, and a _lot_ of painting supplies.

“Now put Mrs Norris down. It’s time for her snack.”

Draco hardly does anything: Filch opens a drawer, and the smell of fish causes Mrs Norris to leap out of his arms.

“I’ll be going,” Draco says.

“Go back to your common room,” Filch says, glaring, while his other hand holds out a piece of meat for Mrs Norris.

“Of course,” Draco says. He’ll return to his common room _eventually_.

Draco exits and heads to Garren’s office. He arrives just as the office door opens, and Nolan and Harley walk out. Garren looms behind them, his face darkening upon seeing Draco.

“...Mr Malfoy. What brings you here?”

“I hope Mr Gerble and Mr Larch were well behaved for your detention,” Draco says politely.

Garren’s jaw tightens, eyes flickering to the weary third years. “Of course. Mind you two _don’t_ go around attacking other students again.”

“Yes, sir,” the two say.

Draco steps forward and firmly steers them away from Garren. “Have a good evening, sir.”

“Bloody Garren,” Nolan grumbles once they’re out of Garren’s earshot. “Why did he only punish us?!”

“This stupid Gryffindorks,” Harley grumbles with a dark scowl. “It’s not fair, those _muggle-lovers_ —”

“Harley Gerble. We are in public.”

Harley’s head immediately drops, his entire posture guilty.

The three of them walk in silence. When they enter the Slytherin Commons, Draco nods to Felicity, and then leads the two boys into the Slytherin Head Boy room that they use as a meeting space.

Nolan and Harley both take a seat on the large sofa, while Draco settles on an opposing chair.

“Did you know what you did wrong?”

“I spoke in public about things I shouldn’t have,” Harley says sullenly, looking only at his feet.

“That is one. Second point is that not all our enemies are muggle-lovers. Be accurate.”

Harley’s scowl only gets worse. “But sir…”

“So what, they still—aren’t you going to do anything, Mr Malfoy?” Nolan bursts out. He fists his robes, leaning forward in his sitting position. “If we let them go like that, they’ll just get more and more bold! We’re losing!”

“We cannot fight back the way _they_ do. We do not repeat mistakes, neither our own, nor those of other Houses. If you provoke them, what would be the outcome?”

“...Another detention,” Nolan says bitterly.

With an inward sigh, Draco stands up and moves to sit between Nolan and Harley. Both of them give Draco wounded looks.

“In the end, although there were _winners_ to the war, _everyone_ in Britain lost something. Friends. Family. Your own body, your futures,” Draco says. “On both sides. Losing you two...I will not accept it.” He gives them both a head ruffle.

Nolan’s expression weakens the most.

“Before we can retaliate, we need to ensure our own safety. If you retaliate in the dark, you must be sure that you will not be found, and that no one around you is implicated, and you must be ready to face _being_ found. If you retaliate legally, for example through an agreed duel, you must be ready to deal with the effect on your reputation. And sometimes, you don’t need to retaliate directly at all. All you need to do is be _better_ than them, stop caring about them, and suppress them with your aura.”

Inwardly, Draco feels that his words are little ‘ _do as I say, not as I do._ ’

Of course his words are true. And of course he would prefer it if he could gather his enemies to one place and set fire to them. Unfortunately, he has the moral obligation to help these children grow up better than himself.

Nolan and Harley are quiet.

Finally, Harley speaks first, “Mr Malfoy...are you telling us to do more homework?”

Draco’s lips quirk, and he rubs Harley’s head affectionately. “You two are both falling behind Sequoia Hawks,” he chides.

“Someone has to be the best,” Harley says in a deeply knowing tone.

“ _If_ you have any ideas to fight or protect, tell me, understood?” Draco says seriously again. “I hope you won’t act on your own. We are much stronger together.”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy,” the two children chorus.

Draco gives them both headpats. After asking them about their detention experience with Garren, and checking them over for injuries, Draco ushers them back to the Slytherin Common room, and wishes them a good night.

Felicity gives him a mild look when he approaches her. “You had a talk with them?”

“How can we ensure our complete safety?” Draco muses out loud. “Unfortunately, I cannot destroy all of our enemies.”

“Then we need stronger shields. Or _we_ move.”

Draco frowns. Either way, it is not something he can solve overnight.

***

Harry is a little dazed as he wakes up on the weekend. It feels cold. He reaches out and pulls a duvet over him. Does the bed feel emptier than normal?

“Time to get up, Harry,” comes Draco’s voice.

Harry whines. He wraps himself up with the duvet, and ignores it when Draco pokes at the small part of his head that’s sticking out. Then, the air noticeably warms to the point that being inside the rolled duvet is starting to feel hot.

“Do you want to miss out on the snow fort the others are building inside the commons?”

Harry’s eyes snap open. “ _Inside?!!_ ”

“The Slytherin Commons expanded in size last night. I’ve been moving snow inside.”

Harry tries to get up and instead is all tangled up. Draco laughs and helps him out.

When Harry finally comes down, there is indeed a “snow area” near the Lake’s window. Some fifth years are constructing intricate snow sculptures.

Harry heads to Draco’s side. “What are you making?”

Draco stands taller, flicking his wand. “It’s a _dragon_ , obviously.”

Harry squints. “Hm, no, sorry, I can’t see it.” He yelps when Draco pokes him in the side.

“Then do _better_ ,” Draco taunts.

Harry, as it turns out, cannot do better, but it’s still mighty fun.

As lunch approaches, Draco gathers the students willing to head to the Great Hall.

Harry heads up to the dorm room to get something more presentable to wear than the Christmas jumper he had thrown on earlier. Draco follows him up.

“Take a set of warm robes,” Draco reminds him. “It’s colder outside the Dungeons.”

Harry makes a face. “Yes, mum.”

Draco pushes him, and he jumps out of reach, giggling. But, he indeed pulls out the warm over-robe that Draco recently gave him to match the hat, scarf and gloves that the second years got him.

In the afternoon, Harry has already scheduled to meet with Ron and Hermione. So after eating lunch, Harry moves from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor table, as usual ignoring the eyes that follow him.

Harry immediately notices that he’s over-dressed compared to the rest of the Gryffindor table. Everyone else—really, _everyone else_ —is wearing muggle clothing. 

“Mate, first time seeing you voluntarily wear robes on the weekend,” Ron comments after gulping down some pumpkin juice.

“Is that a new robe?” Hermione asks.

Harry fiddles with the fabric. “Aren’t you cold? Draco gave me these, they have woven-in warming charms. Did you all agree to dress Muggle today?”

“It’s simply easier to manoeuvre in muggle clothing,” Hermione says.

Ginny slings an arm over Harry’s shoulder. “I think he’s just in his rebellious phase,” she smirks.

Luna nods solemnly. “Furthermore, robes are not solely wizards wear.”

Harry smiles and deliberately changes the topic.

*

Later that night, Harry sits on a familiar-yet-not sofa in the Gryffindor common room, holding his mug of hot chocolate against his lips.

He still has his warm over-robe on, though he has since unbuttoned it. The Gryffindor common room is smaller, but also cozy. Harry is surrounded by many Gryffindor students, now broken into small conversational groups.

Just a while ago, they had all joined into a big game of transfer chess with as many chess boards as they could obtain, where killed pieces were handed to the next player along to place on their board. However, it eventually dissolved into defeat for everyone when chess pieces from different sets didn’t want to join the next team.

Of course, not everyone in Gryffindor had joined in. Some had seen Harry arrive, and pointedly stomped up to the dorms away from him.

Harry finishes the rest of his hot chocolate and stands up, attracting Ron and Hermione’s attention.

“It’s late, I’m going back to Slytherin now.”

“Do you have to go?” Dennis Creevey asks. “It’s almost curfew, you could sleep here.”

“My robes will keep me warm on the walk back,” Harry says with a small grin.

“We’ll walk with you,” Hermione says, nudging Ron.

Harry frowns a little, but he follows Ron and Hermione out of Gryffindor.

Once the portrait door closes behind them, Hermione says, “Didn’t you say you need to be careful in the corridors? This late at night, we’ll come with you.”

“— _And_ we know the location of the Slytherin Dungeons _anyway_ ,” Ron adds.

Harry concedes. Ron and Hermione accompany him down to Slytherin; he only says the password once they’re out of earshot.

The Slytherins hanging around the Common Room greet him warmly.

When bedtime arises, there’s no need for Pansy to coax him. At this point, Harry is getting used to sleeping next to her. He also suspects that the bed has gotten even _bigger_.

“You still haven’t read my book yet?” Pansy says with a faux-sad expression.

The book on courting traditions has been sitting on Harry’s messy desk for days.

“Do I _have_ to right now?” Harry summons the book and flips it open. His eyes glaze over at all the _rules_ that are listed for the seventh gift in the courting process. Multiple back and forth gifts, chaperones, and _marriage_ …

Harry makes a face and decisively closes the book. “If I need to follow them, I’ll just hire a consultant,” he decides.

Pansy laughs. “There’s no need to _hire_ , I’ll gladly guide you,” she says with a smirk. “Why don’t you practice doing them with Draco?”

On the bed, Draco’s lips twitch. “Pansy, Pansy,” he drawls. “Your spot next to me in the bed is under threat.”

Meanwhile, Blaise is already curled up on the far side of the bed, asleep.

Pansy tilts her head up with a smirk. “Have _you_ read _your_ book on Muggle dating habits? Should I read them out loud for you?”

“Should I banish you to Harry’s bed for the night?” Draco counters.

Harry laughs. “Why is my bed the punishment?”

“Come here,” Draco beckons him, patting the bed space next to him. “We’ll leave Pansy to sleep on the cold edge.”

Harry doesn't think too deeply about it as he shuffles over and under the blankets. The bed is nice and warm and cosy, and it's not awkward at all because they’re all friends.

"Comfortable?" Pansy says with a glint in her eyes as she gets into bed next to Harry.

"What happens if you get a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Harry says to Pansy.

Pansy prods his forehead. "Feeling a sense of abandonment already? By that point, I think you'll have other things on your mind."

"Don't tell me you're planning his downfall already," Draco drawls

Harry only catches a glimpse of Pansy's knowing expression before Draco tugs his glasses off for him.

Harry wriggles deeper into the blankets and closes his eyes.

***

The next morning, Draco arises early as usual. A feeling of unease passes through him when a barn owl comes flying into the Eighth Year dorm room.

“Is that a letter for me?”

Ignoring him though, the owl lands in Harry’s stomach. Draco frowns.

Harry wakes up when the owl's claws dig into him. "Eh? What?" He shoves his glasses onto his face. "Draco?"

"Apparently you have an owl. It must be urgent."

Harry sits upright on the bed and takes the message from the owl. The owl doesn't wait, flying out the open door immediately

"What is it?" Draco asks.

Harry frowns. "McGonagall wants me to head to her office right away. Kingsley is there...he wants to speak with me."

Before Harry has even finished talking, Draco is already getting out Harry's warm clothes. "Very well, I'll accompany you."

"It says here that...it's confidential."

The uneasy feeling in Draco's chest grows. "I'll accompany you to McGonagall's office nonetheless. Alert me through the badge once your meeting is over."

"Okay."

The corridors are quiet on the early Sunday morning, Draco doesn't meet anyone while walking Harry to McGonagall's office, and he doesn't meet anyone on the way back.

As the morning goes on, Draco's fiddling with his badge becomes noticeable to Pansy.

"Harry's been in that meeting for a while," she says.

"I'll go to McGonagall's office."

"I'll come with you."

“Wait!” Felicity hurries up to them. “There’s a problem. The surveillance spells…”

With a dark face, Draco opens the Slytherin entrance and finds two ranks of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors standing immediately outside.

Laurel Gardiner smiles gently, while her eyes spark with glee. “So this is where your house lies. A hole in the wall.”

Some of the Gryffindors dare to dart forward for a glimpse inside, peering around Draco.

“Ugh, green,” one of them says.

“But how is it fair? It looks bigger than our common room!” another mutters darkly.

Pansy steps up to Draco’s side, her eyes narrowed. Both of them exit Slytherin, making the entrance behind them close back into a smooth wall.

“Don’t you have _breakfast_ to attend?” Draco says coldly.

“Most of you don’t even go to breakfast _anyway_ ,” a Gryffindor says, puffing his chest out. _Ben Taylor_ , Muggleborn and Gryffindor Beater.

“How does _our_ breakfast have anything to do with you? Concerned?” Pansy smirks. “However, we don’t really need your thoughts and care...sorry.”

“I suggest you leave,” Draco says.

“This is _our_ castle too,” Gardiner says. “We can stand around in this nondescript corridor if we wish.”

“— _Expelliarmus,_ ” Draco drawls. A Gryffindor’s wand flies into his palm.

The Gryffindor flushes red. “Give my wand back, Malfoy! Didn’t realise you were a thief too!”

“Are you telling me you _weren’t_ going to cast a hex?” Draco throws the wand back, making the Gryffindor scramble forward for it. Ignoring their reply, he turns to Gardiner.

“Now. You will _tell_ me how you found our entrance.”

Gardiner rolls her eyes. “You Slytherins aren’t _nearly_ as sneaky as you think you are.”

Draco’s eyes narrow. His ears prick, sharpening to the sounds around him. In a flash, he swings to one of the Gryffindors, Dennis Creevey. Creevey’s heart is beating hard. “ _You_ know something,” he growls. “What did you _do?_ ”

Creevey’s eyes are bright and angry. “Harry’s not a Slytherin! He’s a Gryffindor, and he should be with us! He’s too nice to be one of your lot!”

“ _What_ did you do?”

“We had hot chocolate in Gryffindor last night, when Harry was with Hermione and Ron,” Creevey says, lifting his chin. 

Draco’s nostrils flare. “And then you betrayed his trust by following him back to Slytherin.”

“I—I wanted to make sure he was _safe_.”

“Oh, just fucking shut up,” Taylor growls. “Digging yourself into a hole there. Potter _abandoned_ us!”

“Harry Potter does not abandon people,” Draco says coolly.

Creevey’s eyes snap to Draco. “Of course he doesn’t!”

“He’s the _saviour_ ,” Draco continues. “He has a fucking hero complex. And what he wants is for us to get along. You’re all _disappointing_ him.”

Creevey flinches. “You’re wrong! Harry—you must have charmed him!”

“And _you_ should know that Potter can throw off an Imperius,” Draco says coldly. “You’re one of his fanboys, aren’t you?”

“Should I set up a sofa out here?” Pansy says drily.

“We still need to find Harry,” Draco says. 

The two of them subsequently ignore the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

“What a mess,” Pansy grumbles. “The only way to scare them off is if we can convince Filch to patrol around our area more often.”

“In which case we need to convince _Mrs Norris_ ,” Draco says.

Pansy brightens. “Catnip?”

“Don’t you think Filch would notice? No, we’ll just increase the heating charms around the dungeons…”

They end up meeting Harry just as he comes out of McGonagall’s office.

Harry startles upon seeing them. “Draco, Pansy, is something wrong?”

“Our common room has been found,” Draco says.

Harry doesn’t yet look alarmed, mildly frowning. “That’s not good?”

“Creevey followed you back to Slytherin, and he told those who are _not_ our friends.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “ _What_? He did...no...he wouldn’t. I can’t believe he did...” At that, Harry’s expression falls. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful last night…”

Draco sighs. “No, I’m being unfair. They would have found out eventually, be it from you, or by following someone else.” He gives Harry a short pat. “Let’s go back.”

Those students are still there when they return.

When they see Harry’s face though…Creevey’s eyes go red.

“Harry…” he says in a piteous tone.

Harry shakes his head. “Dennis. Everyone. I haven’t had breakfast yet so...can you all please go?”

Gryffindor Ben Taylor huffs. “Whatever then, I need to prepare for Quidditch practice anyway.” With his lead, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs leave.

Harry rubs his face in tiredness.

“Well, breakfast is already on the table inside…” Draco nudges Harry into Slytherin.

In the privacy of the Slytherin Common room, Draco finally asks Harry about his meeting.

Harry shakes his head, his lips turning down. “I’m sorry, Draco. It was confidential. There are some things I need to do.”

Draco gives him a long, meaningful look, but Harry does not give in. “Don’t worry about it, Draco. I’ll be fine.”

However, for the rest of the day, Draco doesn’t have time to carefully monitor Harry’s movements and emotional state.

Instead, he’s accompanying Felicity to set up more surveillance spells outside Slytherin. He’s accompanying Blaise to remove the most recent round of trap hexes. He’s sitting down with Pansy with copies of everyone’s schedules to see whether they can revise a safer routine.

Draco is more grateful than ever for what Baise and Jamie and Alyss have done in improving their relationship with the house-elves. Lunch is served in the Commons.

Harry is really the only person with reason to go to the Great Hall for meals. He declines going at lunch, but at dinner, he does go. Draco and Pansy drop him off outside the Great Hall where Granger and Weasley await.

Granger gives them a faintly disapproving look. “Making house-elves do extra work…”

“Are you jealous?” Pansy says with an innocent smile. “Keep Harry safe.”

Granger rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

Harry waves Draco and Pansy off. “Don’t worry, I’ll send you a message later.”

That evening, the tables in the “eating quarter” of the Commons are transformed into more formal, permanent tables. With Blaise's gentle encouragement, Hogwarts has obligingly grown the common room again. More couches fill the larger space, and new tables have sprung up by the bookshelves. Draco has sent an order for more books to fill the new shelves.

As the evening deepens, some students gather into groups to either chat or do work. Blaise is conversing with first and second years in the Slytherin Head Boy room, a conversation that he has forbidden Draco from joining in with.

“Just leave him be,” Pansy says when Draco eyes the Head Boy room door for the upteenth time.

"But _why_ won't he let me join in? If he didn't forbid me, then I couldn't be curious."

Pansy rolls her eyes. “It’s Blaise,” Pansy says. “The person we should really be worried about is Harry.”

Draco's eyes lower. He reflexively checks the bond in his chest. Of all his bonds to his Slytherins, the one to Harry is stretched tightest, because he's all the way up in the Gryffindor tower—

— _no, what just happened?!_ The bond suddenly stretches hair-thin. Did Harry just floo or apparate?!

_What. The. Fuck!_

Pansy immediately notices. "What's wrong?"

Draco lowers his voice. "Don't ask me how I know. Harry just left the castle."

Pansy sucks in a sharp breath. "Does McGonagall know?" She grabs Draco’s arm. “Your weird wound transfer...Have you ever thought about what would happen if one of the Slytherins died?”

Draco bites back a hiss. He _does not_ want to entertain that possibility. “Aster’s fall all those months ago should have killed them. It didn’t, and I won’t let it happen.”

“You might die before that happens,” Pansy says, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Draco blinks at her.

“Er, _hello?_ ” she says sarcastically. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to die. What if a _lot_ of us are injured at the same time? Could you handle it?”

“You’ll have those healing potions for me.”

“Healing potions aren’t everything, or we would never die,” Pansy says.

“I didn’t die in the War. I’m _not_ going to die now.”

Pansy smiles faintly. “You mean, you survived Bellatrix and Greyback.”

“Precisely.”

“— _Fuck_ ,” Pansy suddenly says, eyes widening. “Draco…”

“ _Yes?_ ” The slice of pain across the side of Draco’s face hits a moment later. Heart beating widely, Draco surveys the Slytherin Common Room, but it doesn’t seem like anyone here is injured.

Blunt pain on his knees follows a moment later.

Pansy pales. “It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

With one short nod, Draco rises to his feet. “I’ll find him.”

“I’ll—”

“—I can go faster, alone,” Draco says. “I need you to hold down Slytherin.” Not even waiting for Pansy’s protest, Draco runs out.

There are some students from the other houses loitering outside the Slytherin entrance—Draco ignores them, broom summoned and mounted too fast for them to react. A few corridors away, there is Filch and Mrs Norris who is drawn in by the warm-charmed floors. Draco ignores them too.

He flies through Hogwarts, out of the great doors, over the gardens, through the gate. A quick check to see no one is watching, and then Draco leaps into the air and transforms in one fluid motion.

The world becomes smaller, sharper, and the sense of _his Slytherins-to-protect_ comes into sharp relief. His senses heighten and his bonds become clearer in his mind. He climbs up the cloud line, then above. The bond to Harry tugs, and Draco apparates with a _BANG!_

The other bonds stretch tight as his connection to Harry shortens. London smog irritates the back of his throat. Patches of bright lights mark the Muggle areas, and the haze of magic mark Wizarding London. Draco dives.

—transforms back. He can see Harry now. He can see the red robes of Aurors.

He can see damn fucking _Greyback_.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodic scenes again! 😅😅😅 Also, plot...?
> 
> Mrs Norris jumps into Draco's warm arms.  
>  **Filch** : .... What The Fuck. Again?????
> 
> **Cannon fodder Gryffindor** : Malfoy sucks! Potter sucks!  
>  **Nolan** : HOW DARE YOU!  
>  _Later_...  
>  **Harry** : I heard you defended my honour.  
>  **Nolan** : NO I WAS DEFENDING MR MALFOY!  
>  **Harry** : If you say so~  
>  **Nolan** : GRRR. *runs to Draco's side*  
>  **Draco** : *pats Nolan's head* There, there.
> 
> Before Harry is allowed to leave the Slytherin Commons, Draco makes sure that he has his hat, scarf, gloves, and warm over-robe.  
>  **Harry** : Hehehe, mum.  
>  **Draco** : (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> **Harry** : *gets into bed next to Draco*  
>  **Harry** : It's completely platonic! We're all friends!  
>  **Draco** : Yep. And sleeping together is warmer in the winter.  
>  **Pansy** : If you say so~
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*  
>  **Harry** curls up against Draco. Head on Draco’s arm. Arm over Draco’s stomach. Leg tangled with Draco’s legs. A certain part of him pressed against Draco’s hip…  
>  **Draco** : *thinking* _Fuuck. If we’re dating...why haven’t we kissed yet? Maybe I should ask Hogwarts for a separate room..._  
>  Cue Draco falling into the rabbit hole of imagining Harry in compromising positions… At this point, there’s no going back, sorry not sorry, Draco ╮（╯＿╰）╭ 
> 
> I wrote a [writing summary for 2020 here ⭐⭐⭐!](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/post/639055778324561920/writing-and-fandom-in-2020-this-yeari)


	23. Chapter 23

Greyback is flanked by roughly-clothed members of his group. Bartholomew is among the Aurors desperately trying to control the situation, but they’re surrounded by _other_ groups of dark wizards.

In an instant, Draco knows what happened. Harry was used as bait. The Aurors intended to ambush Greyback. But instead, their ambush was ambushed.

“Potter, stay back!” an Auror yells.

Harry has fallen to his knees, ‘protected’ by a single Auror. What happened to Harry’s badge?! Or has it all been used up already?!

WIthout his wings, Draco falls fast. He quickly casts a cushioning charm on the ground, lands, rolls, and leaps back onto his feet.

Greyback startles, slowing his advance.

“Stand the fuck down, Greyback!” Draco growls, pointing his wand directly at Greyback. 

“Why, if it isn’t pretty little Draco Malfoy,” Greyback drawls. He leers, sharp teeth glinting. “Why, this must be a sign.”

With a slash of his hand, Draco summons fire, and it’s grim satisfaction he feels when Greyback flinches.

“Draco! What are you doing here?” Harry calls out, worried. “The Aurors—”

“—are so, so terribly outmatched,” Greyback says. “Two boys for the price of one.”

“Are you _sure_ you wish to fight me?” Draco drawls, bringing the dragon closer to his skin, just enough to sharpen the points of his teeth, point his fingers. He’s glad that Harry’s behind him and can’t see this.

Greyback’s eyes narrow. His hand twitches. Draco slashes fire, just in time as Greyback launches himself forward.

“No _spells_ , Fenrir?” Draco scoffs. “Must you fight like a dog?”

“I should have bitten you,” Greyback snarls. “If the Dark Lord hadn’t stopped me, you would have been my little _bitch_.”

“ _Stupefy_.”

Greyback dodges, a victorious gleam in his eyes. “Are you _scared_ , Draco darling?”

“ _Stupefy_!”

—except this time, that wasn’t Draco. The stunner slams into Draco’s back. He stumbles forward, glancing back over his shoulder at the Auror who dared attack him 

“Aim _better_ ,” Draco snarls.

“I aimed perfectly,” the Auror retorts. “Stand down, Malfoy.”

Greyback lunges, swiping. Draco curses, using instinctive fire to propel himself back from those claws.

He can hear Harry telling the Aurors off, but it doesn’t stop them attacking Draco _anyway_ , all the while he has to defend from fucking Greyback. _Protego_ to his front, _Protego_ to his back. He dashes to the side, trying to trap Greyback between him and the Aurors, except Greyback keeps lunging at him, forcing him into a damned dance.

“ _Aegis is here!_ ”

Greyback’s head whips to the side, and Draco lands a Jelly-Leg Jinx. Greyback tumbles and growls. “Fuck. _Retreat!_ ” He smashes something onto the ground. Black smoke billows up, clouding the air.

“Get them! Don’t let them escape!” Bartholomew yells.

But it’s too late. By the time the smoke clears, Greyback and his accursed crew—those not yet tied up either by the Aurors—are gone.

Other dark wizard group leaders also give the command to escape, but some are a beat too late as Aegis cracks down.

Once all the dark wizards remaining all tied up, some of the Aurors start quarrelling.

“ _Ugh, you Aegis_ , _get the fuck off Auror operations._ ”

“ _You were clearly incompetent._ ”

“ _It’s when **you** arrived that Greyback scampered off! You’ve ruined everything!_”

But meanwhile...one of the Aegis members stalks towards Draco.

“Malfoy _junior._ So confident. So... _unremorseful_.”

“Get the fuck _away!_ ” Harry dashes in front of Draco, one arm out, wand arm pointing forwards.

“Harry Potter. _Perfect_.” The Aegis member makes a hand signal, and a handful of other Aegis members head over. “One of our colleagues has been developing a potion to test for signs of dark or corruption magic. We fear that you have been indoctrinated by Malfoy Junior. Please step aside. If he has done nothing wrong, then he has nothing to fear.”

“You—I can _throw off_ an Imperius Curse!” Harry snaps. “Believe you me, I know full well about Draco’s past _and_ his present.”

Harry shifts back, closer to Draco. “So go away,” Harry continues. “Don’t come any closer, or I won’t _hesitate_.”

The Aegis member blinks. “You already _are_ hesitating, Mr Potter. A good sign, really.”

Draco meets the blue eyes of the Aegis member, their Occlumency shields smooth and impenetrable, face disguised. In one smooth motion, Draco steps forward, wraps an arm around Harry, and apparates them.

They land a few streets away, just close enough that Draco can hear the angry shouts.

Harry lets out a wheezing gasp. “I _hate_ sudden apparitions,” he grumbles.

Draco narrows his eyes, grasping Harry’s shoulder and squeezing not nearly as hard as he wants. “Harry! Potter! Why did you accept? Don’t you realise they used you as bait?? What if Greyback caught you?!”

A complicated expression pulls across Harry’s face. “The Aurors heard that Greyback sometimes appeared around Wizarding London for supplies...they wanted to lure him out. If they could catch Greyback now, then it would free up Aurors to work on Aegis’s case. Draco, I _agreed_ , okay? Kingsley did promise that I would be kept safe, but I know how to duel. Do you think I spent the entire of the last seven years of my life coddled up?! I know how to fight too!”

Draco feels cold, then burning hot. “So _Kingsley_ promised. I can see Bartholomew using you as bait, but for Kingsley to drag you in like that, and not even be there to help?!”

“The Aurors didn’t expect that to happen! Kingsley is busy. There were more than just Greyback’s crew there…”

“Dear Mr Potter, you are a delectable target for many, many people,” Draco sneers. “Good job, Harry, _good job_.”

Harry flushes red with anger. “Why are you treating me like that? I’ve faced worse in the war. _You know this_. There were Aurors protecting me!”

“You were _hurt_ ,” Draco hisses. 

Harry freezes. “Huh? I was?”

Draco reaches out, sliding a finger along Harry’s cheek. The cut is gone now, long transferred and healed on Draco’s face. “Did you completely miss the cut on your face? Did you completely miss the spell to your knee?”

Harry shakes his head lightly.

Draco bites back a sigh and withdraws his hand. “McGonagall should have known better.”

“She didn't know. It was confidential. Kingsley only told her that I needed to visit the Ministry urgently...” Harry droops. “We almost had Greyback….And...wait...how did _you_ find us?”

“We’re going back to Hogwarts.”

“—Hey!”

Draco wraps a firm hand around Harry’s waist and apparates them, using the bonds to the other Slytherins as a guide to pull him back. They land outside Hogwarts’ front gates. Hogwarts accepts them inside, and Draco takes out his broom, returning it to its usual size.

“Get on.”

Draco mounts first, and Harry slides in behind him. He doesn’t sit close to Draco at first.

“Hold _tight_.”

Harry’s arms quickly wrap around Draco as he kicks off.

With the broom, the ground passes quickly. Very soon, the doors loom in front of them. Draco doesn’t slow down.

“Wait—Draco—”

Draco narrows his eyes. The doors open automatically, with just enough space for the two of them to pass through. The corridors flash by. Draco dives between the staircases down to Slytherin’s floor, and only then lands.

“Bloody _hell_ ,” Harry says, a grin on his face. “I should try flying inside some time.”

Draco taps him on the nose. “Don’t tell the younger students. Emergencies only.”

Harry smirks. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me _not_ to do it.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Even if I did, would it stop you? Do you expect me to tie a chain between us?”

Harry’s laugh is a little breathless.

The remaining walk to the Slytherin entrance is short, and Draco tries not to think about how Harry’s scent is now all over Draco’s robes. Outside the entrance are a mix of students, again.

Before Draco can say anything, Harry steps forward.

“What are you doing here?” Harry says, face darkening. “It’s going to be curfew real soon.”

“We were just checking that the _Slytherins_ don’t break curfew,” one of the Gryffindors tries to justify. “ _We’re_ not doing anything bad, but they would.”

“I’m one of those Slytherins, Mason,” Harry says sharply. He crosses his arms. “Now, go, before I tell McGonagall.”

Harry’s magic rises around them like an aura. It’s extremely familiar to Draco, but the other students flinch a little—likely not even realising exactly _why_ they’re flinching. As Harry stares them down, the students leave, though not without backward glances.

Harry sighs heavily, and his magic pulls back. He scrubs his face. “I’m _not_ regretting trying to help the Aurors capture Greyback,” he says. “Catching him would make things better.”

Draco’s eyes darken. When he catches Harry’s expression, he says, “I’m not angry at _you_ , Harry.” After ensuring that there are no outsiders, Draco guides Harry back into Slytherin.

Pansy is the only one on alert. The other Slytherins don’t seem to notice anything off.

“Ah, Harry,” Blaise calls out, emerging from the Head Boy’s room. “Come here.”

Harry glances at Draco, and Draco shoos him. If Blaise wants to let Harry in on whatever secret project he’s doing, then Draco can't stop him. Instead, Draco goes back to Pansy’s side.

“So what happened?” she asks quietly.

“We need to do something about Greyback. Disregard complicated plans.” Draco smiles coldly, knowing full well how ironic his words are. “I know how to draw him out. I’m going to write him...a letter.”

*

For the rest of that night, Harry is hyper-aware of Draco. He still stands by his actions. The only thing he is annoyed about is trusting that _Bartholomew_ could have pulled off the plan successfully.

But Draco says nothing more about it, instead asking Harry about his homework instead—after all, tomorrow is Monday.

“I thought he was going to ground me, or something,” Harry says privately to Pansy at one point.

Pansy gives him a look. “You didn’t see how worried he was when he realised you were missing...He’s going to give you a whole bag of badges, I’m sure.”

That’s exactly what happens: Aster delivers a pouch full of badges to Harry.

An uncomfortable feeling grows in Harry’s heart.

When they get into bed that night...Draco wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder.

“Be good and go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Harry says obediently. He closes his eyes and doesn’t move around.

But that doesn’t mean he falls asleep.

_What expression did Draco make when he realised I was gone? Why did he decide to come…_

Draco’s sudden appearance was too fast. Suddenly standing between him and Greyback. Suddenly hugging him and apparating them away. Making Harry hug _him_ on the flight back to Slytherin.

_Did he want to...save me? But everyone knows I can save myself. I’ve beat him so many times before…_

_Is it because...he cares?_

Harry can’t help but shift, a scoff in his mind. Being in Slytherin for over a month now, Harry could be blind and still understand that Draco looks after everyone in Slytherin House.

Harry’s chest feels stuffy and sour. He knows that Draco cares for everyone...but inexplicably, he wants Draco to care _more_ for him. The two of them have a long history, don’t they? They worked well as enemies, and now, they work well as friends…

A warm hand threads through Harry’s hair. “Go to sleep,” Draco’s low voice whispers against Harry’s head.

The sound sends a tingle down Harry’s spine.

Blaise sleeps next to Draco. It’s platonic. Pansy sleeps next to Draco. It’s platonic. What Harry _might_ be feeling towards Draco...it’s platonic, too.

Isn’t it?

Yet, that doesn’t stop the head-caresses from coaxing Harry to sleep…

*

The roaring feeling in Draco’s chest barely settles after Harry falls asleep. Will things get better? Or will things get worse?

*

It is close to midnight by the time Auror Ellias Bartholomew finishes with the preliminary dealings of the captured dark wizards. But tonight’s work is not done. Multiple senior Aurors have been called into the Minister’s office.

“Minister,” Bartholomew greets darkly. “The plan should have worked, we were _so_ close. But then _Malfoy_ had to appear like that!”

Auror Michael Hitchly nods. “Leaving Hogwarts like that is enough grounds for arrest!”

The Minister sighs heavily. “Do you think I _haven’t_ seen the surveillance?” he says, voice a little sharp.

Bartholomew gnashes his teeth. “Then you would have seen—”

“How Malfoy junior _helped_ you. Greyback only fled when Aegis appeared. Auror Hitchly, you are _not_ going to Hogwarts again so soon. Potter was injured. I gave him my word that he wouldn’t be. _You_ gave me your assurances. Now, do you realise what position you’ve put me in?!”

Head Auror Robards also gives Bartholomew a belittingly look. “It was a raid, yet how did they all ambush _you_ instead?”

Bartholomew reddens in both anger and embarrassment. “If _Head Auror Robards_ had given us more Aurors! If you, Minister, had allowed us to call in the Unspeakables—! The hitwizards! We were outnumbered!”

“Maybe you have planned more carefully,” Robards retorts. “Didn’t _Aegis_ show up? Don’t they count as numbers?”

Another Auror sneers. “They didn’t help us at all!”

With that, arguments break out. No one will be leaving for a while yet.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaise has a secret project. He likes to smirk at Draco whenever Draco looks at him.
> 
> Draco wraps Harry in a hug to apparate.  
>  **Harry** : *thinking: _he didn't **need** to hug me...why did he hug me????_*  
>  **Draco** : *dragon side thinking: MUST KEEP (MY) HARRY SAFE*  
> Draco hugs Harry to sleep.  
>  **Harry** : *thinking: _why is he hugging me….why do I like it…_ *  
>  **Draco** : *dragon side thinking: _keep. him. safe!_ *  
> If only Pansy knew about this development…
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*  
> In the adrenalin of Draco racing to find Harry, apparating him away from the Aurors to a dark empty alley...he burns to keep Harry close, yet Harry is annoyed at him.  
> “...Seriously Draco, don't treat me like a child! I can save myself! Why—”  
> Harry gasps when Draco reels him in and kisses him hard.


	24. Chapter 24

An encrypted letter reaches Greyback’s hands.

> _A huge shame that our fight got interrupted. I still haven’t paid you back for Malfoy Manor. Forbidden Forest, at your earliest convenience._
> 
> _I’ll even throw in Potter for you so that you can dream of defeating him while getting crushed by me._

There’s no signature, but there’s no need. Greyback sneers. “A year older and he’s grown all cocky, heh?”

“What is it?” a subordinate asks.

“We’re going to make a little trip…”

***

The appearance of Greyback, Dark Wizards, and Aegis in Wizarding London makes its way into the papers. The atmosphere drops and tensions tighten across Wizarding Britain, and Hogwarts cannot escape it.

A few mornings later, the first years find Draco before breakfast.

“Mr Malfoy…” Alyss Singh and her friend, Francis Mallow, bow their heads as they approach him.

Draco looks at them. “You do not want to head to the Great Hall for breakfast?”

“It’s not that…” Alyss trails off.

Francis steps up. “We don’t want to go to class, sir,” he says, voice trembling slightly.

Across the Common room, the other first years are anxiously looking their way.

Alyss is a good student—all the first years are, regardless of their blood status. They’re attentive and active during the tutoring sessions that some of the seventh years hold. There aren’t any tests for the first years today, and even if there were, they wouldn’t act like this.

“Would you feel safer if I recharmed your badge?” Draco says.

Alyss and Francis glance at each other, but neither replies.

_So it’s the **words** that are getting to you?_ Draco wants them to ignore it and keep their heads above it…

But they’re first years. Little, tiny first years. And Draco cannot block their ears for them.

He exhales evenly, careful not to sigh.

“Very well,” he says. “You may remain in the Commons, and I’ll request your professors for any work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alyss says.

“But I want to see some self-study,” Draco says sternly. “Same schedule as you usually would. Are all of you staying back?”

Francis nods. “Yes.” He glances behind him, meeting the eyes of the other first years.

“I expect you to work together while the rest of us are gone. There will be some Slytherins with study periods around, too. I will _personally_ examine your work tonight.”

Both Alyss and Francis nod seriously. After getting his permission, they quickly head over to the other first years to tell them the news.

After making sure that the first years are eating, Draco heads out with the main group of Slytherins to the Great Hall.

Harry walks closely next to him, asking in a lowered voice, “Why aren’t the first years coming? Their first class is on the ground floor…”

“They don’t want to go.”

Harry’s eyes flicker. “Oh. But the Professors…”

“I’ll talk with them.” Draco gives Harry a look. “Unlike a certain someone, they’re asking for protection. Can you deny them?”

Harry’s eyes dip, looking inexplicably shy. “You’re a git,” he grumbles. “Of course I’m not denying them...I care for them too.”

After the failed ambush, Harry has been more quiet and contemplative than usual, but he hasn’t said anything to Draco. Draco has ultimately pushed the issue aside: it’s not a look of Harry before he does something reckless _just yet_.

When they reach the Great Hall, instead of taking a seat at Slytherin table, Draco continues walking up to the front. Of all the Professors, Draco heads to Flitwick, who is seated next to Hagrid.

“Sir,” Draco says quietly.

Flitwick purses his lips and quickly hops off his seat and comes to the front of the stage. “This is urgent, I assume. How may I help you?”

“My first years won’t be attending any classes today. I would appreciate it if you could pass me on your class notes and any assignments.”

Flitwick frowns. “Oh dear, perhaps we should ask Poppy to go see them.”

“With respect, this is not an ailment a Healer can fix, sir.”

Flitwick’s frown deepens. “I see...Is there anything else I can do for you? Professor Garren…”

In and amongst everything, Draco feels a twitch of amusement. Flitwick must have heard of Garren’s latest misendeavours.

“Actually, if you could obtain the work from the other classes, I would much appreciate it.” Draco lists Professor Garren and the professors for Transfiguration and Muggle Studies.

“I’ll get them as soon as I can,” Flitwick agrees.

“Done with your talk?” Hagrid says. “Malfoy, if there is anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask! And the thestrals have been missing you, of course.”

Flitwick smiles fondly at Draco. Draco inwardly rolls his eyes. These two professors have clearly been talking about him behind his back...

“I’ll see them when I’m free,” Draco replies. “I appreciate your help, Professor.”

He returns to the Slytherin table, taking a seat next to Harry.

“Here’s your coffee,” Harry says.

Draco accepts it with a smirk. “Do you prefer serving me at the Slytherin table instead of eating with your Gryffindor friends? Have I risen in your heart?” he jokes.

“Shut up!” Harry retorts. “What if it’s because I think I need to protect _you_?”

Draco scoffs. “No need.”

Harry smirks. “Oh, who was it that lost last time we dueled…”

In this, Draco can only grudgingly concede, while Pansy laughs at him.

*

Flitwick catches Draco towards the end of the lunch break outside the Great Hall, handing over the sheaves of parchment with class notes and assignments.

“It may be irregular for me to speak as Head of Ravenclaw, but I am more than willing to speak to and for any of those in Slytherin,” Flitwick says.

“Sir, I would appreciate it if you spoke to your own House,” Draco says.

Flitwick’s eyes flash in realisation. “Have they been untoward?”

“Oh, not physically,” Draco says. “Thank you again, Professor. I appreciate this and your vote of support.”

Flitwick’s face darkens. “Is that so,” he mutters to himself.

*

While Hermione is disgruntled that Harry has not been joining them for breakfast of late, she’s happy that he has joined them for dinner.

Hermione leans in close to Harry, lowering her voice. “What is up with your Slytherins? I heard some of them aren’t attending classes.” The judgement in her voice is audible, despite how she has tried to push it down.

Harry glances back at her. “They can’t learn in class anyway, isn’t that a waste of time?”

“Can’t learn in class? There’s nothing wrong with the professors this year! I would _know_ ,” Hermione replies. “And skipping out on Muggle Studies is a _statement_ do you understand?”

After a moment, Harry replies, “Think of it this way. If a known blood supremacist and anti-muggle wizard got up to the lectern and gave a lecture on arithmancy, would you trust anything they say?”

_Of course I wouldn’t!_ is Hermione’s knee-jerk response.

The look on Harry’s face shows that he knows what she would say.

Harry gives her a dry smile. “Hermione...since you didn’t worry about the Slytherins before, don’t worry about them now. I know that Draco has it under control.”

_Under control?!_ Hermione scoffs in her heart. But Harry’s right, why _should_ she care about them? If Malfoy thinks he knows what he’s doing...let him!

*

That evening, Draco receives an encrypted letter sent by an anonymous owl to Blaise—sent to Blaise because unlike Draco, Blaise’s mail is not being monitored by Aurors.

The four Eighth Year Slytherins gather in their dorm room. After Draco tells the context to Blaise and Harry, Harry makes a grumpy expression.

“Aren’t you using yourself as bait? The very thing you told me _not_ to do?” Harry says, crossing his arms.

“We’re not relying on others. We’re relying on the most trustworthy, _ourselves_. Or do you think the two of use cannot defeat Greyback?” Draco challenges.

“Without Aurors to mess things up,” Pansy adds meaningfully.

“And I’m _telling_ you, aren’t I?” Draco adds.

“You…” Harry makes a face. “Fine. Let’s see it.”

> **Growing a little big for your little boots. Meet at XX.YY apparition coordinates, 1am Friday. You and Potter, no one else.**
> 
> **If not, I’ll pay your parents a visit next…**
> 
> **No reply needed. Be there.**

“You’re _not_ going alone,” Pansy immediately says. “I’ll tell your mum if you do.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I never intended to.” He smirks. “After all, Greyback _certainly_ won’t be alone. Neither will we.”

As long as they crush Greyback, his ‘threat’ becomes useless.

“The four of us are enough,” Blaise says calmly.

“Are we going to set a trap?” Harry asks.

“By the time we receive this letter, Greyback would have already set precautions at the coordinates,” Draco says. “But since he ambushed _you_...he shouldn’t mind getting ambushed in turn.”

Blaise, Pansy, and Harry nod.

Draco reveals a cold smile. Just one more night...

***

The next morning, the second years ask to skip Potions and Muggle studies, and the third years ask to skip Potions.

Draco grants them both, feeling both tired and helpless. At the same time, having them skip those classes, especially Potions, is beneficial. This way, Draco can ensure their safety _and_ improve their Potions study.

But as such, the group of Slytherins that leave the Commons has shrunk even more.

As usual, Felicity’s monitoring picks up the other students loitering outside. Draco heads out first. 

Creevy and Gardiner and her crew, again.

“Such a small group? Your little Slytherins are so _scared_ , aren’t they?” Gardiner taunts.

Draco smiles coldly. “Does it not tire you to wake up early to antagonise us?”

Pansy adds, “It’s not a good look on you, darling.”

They walk past her. It’s not Draco’s concern if she remains there for the rest of breakfast. There won’t be any other students leaving till lunch.

Blaise and Felicity, at the head of the group, check the safety of the staircase first, before allowing the group to move up.

Meanwhile, Creevey has tagged along at the end of the group, trying sweet-eyes at Harry. “Please, Harry. Come back to Gryffindor.”

“Not until everyone pulls their head out of their arse and sits down to talk,” Harry counters.

Creevey glares at Draco before turning back innocent eyes at Harry. “You don’t understand,” he says, voice lowering. Of course, Draco can hear perfectly clearly. “The Ministry is still _full_ of purebloods. Of _course_ they wouldn’t apply the law properly. And sometimes, the law is _wrong_ …”

Harry sighs. “I know, Dennis. Want to sit with me, Ron and Hermione?”

“Yes please!”

As they approach the Great Hall, a group of Gryffindors approach from the opposite direction. Ben Taylor’s leading them, and he looks big even in comparison to the other bulky Gryfinddors.

“ _Huh_ ,” Taylor scoffs, puffing up his chest. “So _some_ of you decided to show up for breakfast. Make it easier for the rest of us and leave, would you?”

“ _They’ve_ been skipping classes,” a tall Ravenclaw says, as a group of them approach from yet another direction. “If you’re _not_ going to attend class, then there’s _no point_ you Slytherins being here and wasting everyone’s time and money.”

Draco considers them, face calm. Blaise is giving him a pointed look, and so Draco bites back his initial sarcastic reaction— _An honourable person would attempt to better themself, rather than attempt to eliminate the competition_. Instead, he says, “You have the right to be here. And so do we.”

“That Quidditch match was a farce!” Taylor growls.

“And we all know that Hermione Granger is _much_ smarter than you,” the Ravenclaw adds with a curl of their lip.

Magic thickens in the air. “ _You all,_ ” Harry says, voice shaky with annoyance. “This is _not_ the House unity McGonagall was telling us about at the start of the year. But you know what? Fine. If you hate each other so much, then _shut your mouth_. If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say it at all!” A _zing_ of magic pulsates from Harry.

Draco cuts a look at him, a twist of concern in his chest. This is the second time in recent memory that Harry’s magic has slipped.

Taylor opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He tries again, and then his expression darkens. Harry’s magic has silenced him. He stomps into the Great Hall, and after a beat, the rest of his Gryffindor friends follow.

The Ravenclaws roll their eyes and step in after.

Blaise gives Draco a nod, and he leads them in.

“I’m fine,” Harry says pre-emptively. “I’ll see you later.” He and Creevey head to the Gryffindor table, where Granger and Weasley await.

“So much _drama_ ,” Pansy says as she plops herself down at the Slytherin table.

“This _is_ Hogwarts,” Blaise says, like it explains everything. “And oh, Draco, I’ll be borrowing those silver robes of yours.”

Draco doesn’t even bother to ask why. “Of course, wear what you like from my wardrobe.”

Pansy smirks. “You say that because _you_ borrow from Blaise’s.”

“It’s not _my_ fault he has access to the latest Italian fashions.”

Draco continues talking with his friends, but half of his attention is on the mood in the Great Hall. The whispers that have been steadily growing. The ones about _himself_ are no bother. But there’s increasing talk about _Harry_ that worries him, that urges him to pluck Harry away from the Gryffindor table to the relative safety of Slytherin.

But then he thinks about what they’ll be doing tonight, and how, for once, Granger and Weasley _do not know_. Doesn’t this show how much closer Draco has become in Harry’s heart?

Pansy raises an eyebrow. “Potter-watching _again_?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Isn’t keeping watch over Slytherins my responsibility?”

“Hmm, you keep thinking that, darling.” The corner of Pansy’s lips curls up into a smirk, which Draco resolutely ignores.

*

It’s midnight when the four of them sneak out. 

The way Professor McGonagall can know about the going on in Hogwarts is through her connection with Hogwarts. As such, Draco and Blaise ask Hogwarts to pretend that all the eighth years are nice and quiet in their dorm rooms.

They're all well prepared: multiple wands that aren't their own, re-sized brooms, a plethora of potions and protective badges. Both Pansy and Blaise have taken a potion to mask their scent.

Their first stop...is the thestrals’ glade. They stir upon Draco’s arrival. The little ones trot to Draco’s side, but Draco nudges them away.

“We have business,” he says to the thestral leader. He tells her of what they're going to do, and who will be in the Forest tonight. By Draco’s estimations, Greyback and his gang should already be at the location.

Of course, they’re not simple enough to apparate in at the given coordinates. Who would fall directly into that kind of trap?

After the thestral leader’s neigh of acknowledgement, she lowers her head.

“Thank you,” Harry says. He and Draco climb onto her back, while Blaise and Pansy climb onto the back of another thestral adult. The entire herd lifts off.

Under the cover of the thestrals, they fly directly over the location. Draco looks down, his eyes flashing as the pupils change to dragon eyes. He can make out the irregular shapes that are Greyback’s crew. He can smell the stench of meat on them too.

No other groups, though. _Tch, he’s underestimating me_. _..or he’s fallen out with the other groups._

Well, that Greyback’s loss.

The thestral herd splits up. Pansy and Blaise and the bulk of the herd head to the far side. Their job is to ambush and take out Greyback’s followers.

Meanwhile, the thestral leader flies back and lands on the opposite side. Draco and Harry jump off, and start heading towards the coordinates.

They’re 15 minutes early, but then again, hardly as early as Greyback.

As Draco steps forward, his eyes capture his surroundings. Those members of Greyback’s crew near him quickly shift away, letting Draco and Harry into the “circle”, then closing back up again.

They clearly don’t notice the vial Draco drops, slowly emitting its fumes.

As they approach, Greyback doesn’t reveal himself.

“It’s cold,” Harry mutters. “You better defeat him quickly so we can go to bed. We still have classes tomorrow.”

Draco hides a smirk. “Don’t worry, we all know that Greyback is nothing without the full moon...well, I know he’s weak. Otherwise, why would he hide in the Dark Lord’s shadow? It's a good thing you killed him, Potter, or else Greyback would have become the Dark Lord's pet by now—”

“ _GROWL!_ ” A figure leaps out from the tree above them, teeth sharp, eyes angry, fingernails curled like claws.

Draco raises his hand. “ _Stupefy_ ,” he says calmly.

The spell slams into Greyback, but he’s only momentarily thrown back. Harry follows up with a moving _Protego_ that pushes Greyback away, and Draco slides in with a Jelly Legs jinx.

“Two on one, not really fair, but you asked for it,” Draco drawls, looking down on Greyback.

Greyback jumps back to his feet. “You bastard. I should have messed you up when I had the chance!” He finally draws his wand and fights back.

The shock and anger when one of his spells appears to bounce off the two of them tickles Draco’s heart.

“You're cheating?!”

“Preparing oneself is not _cheating_ ,” Draco drawls.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Harry cuts in.

In Greyback’s inattention, he loses his wand. His growls intensify. “That’s it, _get them!_ ”

A couple of people run out from the trees, but not all of Greyback’s group.

“Harry, stop playing nice with them,” Draco says. “We'll clean these wands after.”

Harry nods. “I was waiting for you to say that.”

Draco immediately heads for Greyback. Harry will deal with some of the others, and Pansy and Blaise from the back.

Draco stops the little hexes and goes in for the slashing charms, the stabbing charms, the charms that freeze muscles and sends pins across skin. The charms that _make_ you feel as though your bones are on fire.

“Fuck you, bringing some friends along?” Greyback snarls when he notices Pansy and Blaise behind him.

“Didn’t you bring your own friends? I was lonely,” Draco drawls, as his wand slashes. Greyback lunges at him and Draco throws a fireball right in his face.

Greyback screams as he’s blinded. Draco smashes his knee, forcing him to the ground.

“Once the Aurors see you doing this...if I’m dead, _you’re_ dead too.”

Sneering, Draco stalks up to Greyback. “Did you think I’ll hand you to the Aurors? If _I_ kill you, then it’s not a problem.” With another spell, Draco rips off Greyback's fingernails.

“ARGG!!” Greyback snarls. “When I get you...oh, you will wish you were dead.” His eyes glint with cold burning light.

“Isn’t that my line?”

Around him, spells fly, but Draco continues calmly. A spell pushes Greyback down, another ties him up. Draco leans over, whispering, “Did you know, one of the Dark Lord's _experiments_ worked.” He grabs Greyback's neck, his own claws extending, his own teeth sharpening.

“You're a little dog. I'm a _dragon_.” 

Greyback narrows his eyes, even as breath starts leaving him.

“Unfortunately, I would rather not dirty my hands with you…” Draco smiles. “Pansy.”

Pansy immediately heads to Draco’s side. “Hold him,” she commands.

Draco lifts Greyback up some more, forcing him to face Pansy.

Pansy uses a throwaway wand, and whispers, “ _Obliviate._ ”

Just like that, a whole week of Greyback’s memories disappear. It’s a shame that Greyback won’t have nightmares about Draco...but needs must. After all, they can’t have the Aurors learning about their pre-arranged meeting. 

Pansy fills Greyback in with the story they decided on: internal conflict with another group of dark wizards. The moment the story grips Greyback’s mind, Draco follows with a sleeping charm.

Greyback slumps completely, and Draco lets him drop.

As for the other members… they have fallen under the hands of Pansy, Blaise, and Harry.

Pansy obliviates them all. The rest of them gather the collected criminals, tie them up, and send them all whisking away via portkey.

_Have fun_ , Draco thinks. It's only then that he relaxes. “We did it.”

Harry looks around the area, no one but them, and the now approaching thestrals.

“...I can’t believe it. Was it that easy?” There’s a stunned look on his face.

“Dark spells against Greyback are much more effective,” Draco says. “Greyback’s constitution means that he is naturally resistant against many spells.”

When they return, Draco will have to soak all the temporary wands in a solution that will clear their entire history of usage, and then scatter them.

Harry nods. “Like how he absorbed that stunner…” His eyes narrow and he looks at Draco. “Like how _you_ absorbed that stunner.”

“It’s said that McGonagall remains standing after multiple stunning spells,” Blaise says calmly.

“Are we really going to stand here and chat?” Pansy cuts in. “It’s cold! You’re missing your beauty sleep!”

“Let's go back,” Draco agrees. The thestrals carry them back to the edge of the Forest, and they fly back the rest of the way.

*

In bed, Draco notices how Harry’s is still awake.

“Is there a problem?” Draco says quietly. “Are you _scared_ of me now?”

Harry looks at him, grey eyes unblocked by his usual glasses. “Never. I’m glad we got Greyback...would the same thing work with the other groups? With _Aegis_?”

“The others don’t have the same _personal vendetta_ that Greyback has with me. And Aegis are far smarter than Greyback.”

"Yes, I suppose so…”

“If you two are going to continue your lovey dovey chatting at 3am in the morning, can you please do it in your own bed?” Pansy says.

Draco huffs. “Fine.”

Draco waits until he’s sure that Harry is asleep before relaxing.

Greyback...Draco does not regret torturing him that _tiny bit_ at all. That bastard just _had_ to hurt Harry, didn't he? Just _had_ to bite all those students, didn’t he? The only smart thing Greyback did was _not_ bite Harry, because if he had, he would have suffered a lot, lot more.

Draco’s lips also curl up when he thinks about the Ministry being in an uproar when their “gifts” arrive…

*

Greyback lands, disorientated, in the lit Ministry.

_Fuck...how...who was the bastard who obliviated me?!!_ Although he can feel the memories, he can also recognise how those memories lack vivid _scent_.

He struggles to break the ropes, but by then, late-night Aurors on duty have run out. Shock freezes them, but a few react, throwing multiple red stunners.

“Alert the Head Auror!”

_Fuck..._

*

The next morning, there are once again students loitering outside the Slytherin commons.

_Pitiful_ , Draco decides. For them to have nothing better to do.

“Wow, you students must be fans of Slytherin to wait for us every morning,” he tells them. “Do you want an autograph from us?”

_Heh_ , watch how Creevey flails and glance guiltily at Harry.

Draco blocks Greevey’s view of Harry. “Time for breakfast.”

Regardless of last night’s activities, they have class today too.

The papers that morning have the mysterious capture of Greyback and his gang. They think it’s Aegis’s doing. Tensions towards Greyback drop...but the idolisation of Aegis rises. _Damn it_ to the Ministry who hasn’t released the “truth” that GReyback was taken down by Dark Wizards...even when the information comes out, people will still have Aegis in their minds. Look at how some of the muggleborns sit with lofty looks on their faces.

_“This must be retaliation from that other night!”_

_“Aegis is much faster than the Aurors…”_

_“Of course, Aegis can defeat Greyback...clearly the Aurors need to accept more muggleborns!”_

Draco gives Pansy a look, and she nods. Pansy will spread the alternate rumours herself.

He’s also aware of the glares from the high table, and he’s not truly surprised when one of the professors strides down and tells him to go outside.

Professor Sarah Coates is the Muggle Studies professor. She’s a muggleborn, and similarly wears her robes open like a coat—the way Garren does—instead of properly buttoned up.

“This is a good time for me to hand in the assignments,” Draco says immediately, taking out the Muggle Studies assignments from his first and second years.

“I’ve _tried_ to be patient,” Coates says tightly. She takes the assignments, and they crinkle in her grip. “I _won’t_ stand for you Slytherins missing _anymore_ classes. It’s _disrespectful_. If they find Muggle Studies hard, then they should work _harder_. How do you think it’s like for muggleborns with every other single class?”

“There _are_ muggleborns in Slytherin,” Draco says coolly. Yes, it’s _true_ that they hadn’t advertised it. It’s true that a lot of those muggleborns had either eventually left, or turned even sharper and meaner, much like the late Severus Snape.

“ _Token_ muggleborns, hor-rah,” Coates says sarcastically. “There’s more to class than _assignments_. If those Slytherins don’t show up, then they’re all _failing_.”

“And you’re assuming _I_ must take responsibility for your inability to maintain a conducive learning environment?”

“You’ve been making Professor Flitwick do your dirty work,” Coates scowls. “And…Everyone knows about _you_ and Professor Garren.”

_Interesting_. “Very well,” Draco says. “I assume you’re free sometime in the afternoon. Let’s organise a class for Slytherins first and second years.”

“I’m not giving _you_ special treatment,” Coates counters.

“If you believe that we Slytherins require extra help in Muggle Studies, then surely it would be better to run a remedial-style class.”

Coates glares, scoffing. “Don’t be so entitled, I’m not running an extra class for _slackers_. Consider this your warning. Professor McGonagall is already aware of the situation, and if it does not better itself, she _will_ have a talk with you.” Coates turns and leaves.

In one school of thought, Draco is highly aware that he should force his Slytherins to attend class. They’re facing a _Fail_ marker otherwise.

But _pushing_ them into a space they feel unsafe goes against every single damn instinct that dragon side of him infuses. Perhaps some of that unsafe feeling is perceived and not all true. But until Draco knows for _sure_ , he’s going to want to spread his wings and collect all his Slytherins together safely.

And it’s also _words_ that Draco wants to protect the first and second years from, like those spouted by Taylor. Being told one does not belong, once, can be ignored. But over and over again? Slytherin has been an integral part of Hogwarts since the very beginning, and for all that Draco’s starting to realise that not all traditions are worth keeping, he finds it hard to imagine a Hogwarts without Slytherin.

They all deserve to be here.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to cliff-hanger the battle, but decided not to hahah.
> 
> **Draco** : *sigh* So many cannon fodders...  
>  **Pansy** : Is that a problem?  
>  **Draco** : Eh? Not at all.
> 
> **Greyback** : Heh, Little Malfoy is a weakling.  
>  _After the battle..._  
>  **Greyback** : F*CK!!!!!...wait who is it that I hate??? Everyone!!!  
>  **Draco** : You’re lucky I didn’t torture you, didn’t dangle you over a pool of inferi, didn’t bite you and chew you and spit you out, didn’t stick you in front of a dementor and make you relieve your worse nightmares…  
>  **Greyback** : *shivers* Who’s talking about me...
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*  
> Harry and Draco fight Greyback side-by-side.  
>  **Harry** : We’re a power couple! (≧▽≦)  
>  **Draco** : Yes. *kiss*  
>  **Pansy** : ...how can you be kissing right now...damn it....


	25. Chapter 25

That Friday evening, Draco finds out that the second years skipped potions and walked out of Muggle Studies without telling him beforehand.

“It is a waste of time,” Michelle Nguyen says. She’s clearly thought about these words and delivers them smoothly to Draco.

Draco glances at the seventh years that should have escorted them between these classes.

“You wouldn’t have forced them either,” Sophia Strout says defensively.

“And they’re safer in the Commons,” Felicity Shafiq adds.

_I know._ Draco resists the urge to sigh. “That is not a problem. We’ll have make-up lessons tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday…!” Jamie Ottley cries.

“Well, do you want those make-up lessons _now_?” Draco counters. “I will personally teach you potions.”

“...Muggle studies today, Potions tomorrow?” Jamie says weakly.

“We’ll have to see if your Muggle studies tutors have time,” Draco warns. “But first...are there any _other_ classes you all are planning to skip?”

The second years look at each other.

“Most of them, I see,” Draco answers for them. “Go study or rest, I’ll set up your new class schedule…”

The second years all look guilty, fleeing at Draco’s dismissal.

Since the very start of the year, there have been older Slytherins organised to help and tutor the younger students. Now, some of those tutors will have to be ‘promoted’ to teachers, all on top of their own work.

Not to mention, Draco can already predict that the third years will start skipping classes as well.

***

On Saturday morning, many faces become sour across the country as they receive their newspapers.

> _The Daily Prophet:_ **GREYBACK THE COLLATERAL OF DARK WIZARD GROUPS INFIGHTING?!**
> 
> **__** _Anonymous sources suggest that infighting among various dark wizard groups are on the rise after the recent failed assault in Wizarding London...This led to enemies of Greyback delivering him to Ministry hands early Friday morning…_
> 
> _The DMLE has declined to comment directly on the matter, only telling this reporter, “We have not yet ascertained who exactly caught Fenrir Greyback. Once we know for certain, we will tell the public, rest assured.”_

> _Saturday Sage:_ **AEGIS, IN COLLUSION WITH UNKNOWN MAJOR DARK WIZARD ORGANISATION??**
> 
> _An independent researcher has submitted a thorough analysis to_ Saturday Sage _headquarters detailing the recent actions of Aegis. With much shock to this reporter, Aegis has only been cleaning up dark wizard groups with members numbering 10 or less… This important fact has been purposefully obscured by other certain major newspapers…_
> 
> _Is Aegis too fearful of major dark wizard groups?_
> 
> _OR is Aegis in collusion with a major dark organisation, and HELPING them clean up the competition?_
> 
> _Only you, the reader, can decide! Send your vote in my owl to XXX…_

> _Witch Weekly:_ **SECURITY LEAK IN THE MINISTRY!**
> 
> _All readers, take extreme caution when visiting the British Ministry Of Magic! Careful examination of the delivery of dark werewolf Greyback and co. to the MInistry atrium finds that those dark forces who captured Greyback were able to bypass Ministry security to portkey directly inside...The capture of Greyback cannot have been done by law-abiding citizens…_

Some students at Hogwarts scoff at the papers.

“ _So what if it wasn’t **actually** Aegis who caught Greyback?_”

“ _Someone’s trying to slander Aegis, obviously!_ ”

“ _Everyone knows that the **Saturday Sage** is trash anyway. Wasn’t some of their older articles thoroughly disproved by the **Wizard’s Watch**?_”

“ _ **Heh** , don’t you think it’s suspicious that the Slytherins didn’t come for breakfast today? Not even Harry Potter…_”

In the Slytherin Commons, while Harry is still catching up on lost sleep, Pansy eats her breakfast with great satisfaction.

Draco gives her a dry look. “Be careful, your evilness is showing.”

Pansy smirks. “What do you mean? I did nothing wrong at all. Also, you let Harry sleep in? You’re getting soft, Draco.”

Draco rolls his eyes. Truthfully, he’s noticed that Harry has been having trouble falling asleep next to him, lying stiff instead of relaxing. He turns as Nolan and Harley approach their table.

“Mr Malfoy,” Nolan says in a really quiet voice, “Is Greyback _really_ locked up?” His hands are clenched into fists.

Draco’s eyes soften. “Provided that the Ministry aren’t _too_ incompetent, yes.”

“I told you it was true!” Harley whispers to Nolan.

“It wasn’t Aegis, was it?” Nolan continues.

“Definitely not, Aegis is _weak_ ,” Pansy says derisively. 

Nolan’s eyes jump between Draco and Pansy. For a moment, they lower in thought. The next second, he jumps and hugs Draco and Pansy. “Thank you!”

Draco smiles drily. “What are you thanking me for?”

Nolan smiles innocently. “Nothing.”

Pansy snickers.

Draco pats his head. “Go have breakfast, you third years will have your potions class with me later.”

Nolan and Harley both nod. “Yes, Mr Malfoy!”

*

Harry wakes up feeling groggy and cold. He blinks at the sunlight coming through the charmed window and empty bed. _Draco didn’t wake me?_

That’s when he notices the silvery otter Patronus. It opens its mouth and speaks in Hermione’s voice: “Harry! Did something happen? You weren’t at breakfast today.” The otter dissipates.

A moment later, the door is pushed open. “What was that?” Draco says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Something floated into the room.” His eyes fix on Harry. “Are you injured?”

Harry drops his eyes. “It was just Hermione’s Patronus, I need to reply,” he mumbles, searching for his wand and glasses.

Draco’s expression cools. “Granger and Weasley are waiting outside the Slytherin entrance. Do you want me to send them away?”

“I’ll go out to meet them.”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“I’ll get it on the way in the kitchens—”

“Granger _allows_ you to do that? I’ll prepare a box for you.” The door closes a moment later.

Not long after, Harry comes down, haphazardly dressed, though he has remembered his warm overcloak.

Draco hands up a food box and a flask. “All the food is kept warm, don’t worry,” he says. “And you forgot your scarf _again_.” He summons said scarf and wraps Harry up.

Harry’s cheeks redden. “T-thank you. I—I’ll get going now.”

Draco’s brows wrinkle. “If you _are_ too hot, tell me. You never had any trouble with _that_.”

“I know, _Mum_ ,” Harry says.

Draco messes Harry’s hair in retaliation. “Go, or Granger will burn a hole in the wall, literally…”

After the rest of the school found out the entrance of Slytherin, Felicity organised the construction of an enclosed “entrance foyer”, so that outsiders would not be able to see inside. Harry closes the door of the foyer before opening the Slytherin entrance itself.

Outside, Ron and Hermione are waiting.

“I told you he was fine,” Ron says. “What can happen overnight anyway?”

“Didn’t you hear about the Ministry security breach?” Hermione retorts. “We know that Hogwarts is not impenetrable.”

“Oh, Harry, what is _that_?”

Harry lifts up the flask and food box. “This? Breakfast. I just woke up.” He gives Hermione an apologetic look.

Hermione exhales, her shoulders relaxing. “Right, I forgot you boys like to sleep in on the weekend.”

“Hm, can we _not_ go all the way to Gryffindor? I’m hungry.”

Hermione ends up leading them one of the window alcoves on the second floor. Harry finds that the flask is filled with warm spiced pumpkin tea, and the food box has an assortment of pastries, fruit, and fried eggs and sausages, complete with three sets of cutlery.

“Yes, Ron, you can have some,” Harry says. “Hermione?”

“I’m not hungry,” Hermione says, though she relents and picks up a few raspberries.

Ron happily has some sausages. “Did you hear? Turns out it wasn’t Aegis who took down Greyback.”

Harry stuffs a pastry in his mouth. “Hm, I don’t care who did it. The important thing is that the Aurors can now spend time on _other_ things, like catching Aegis.”

“You don’t _actually_ believe that Aegis is in collusion with a dark wizard group, do you?” Hermione says.

Harry thinks of all the pureblood homes Aegis has been destroying, and hence all the people they’ve offended. “Somehow, I don’t think so,” he says. “Anyway, I thought you didn't like vigilante groups taking the law upon themselves...it’s not the War anymore.”

Hermione’s lips purse. “That’s true. If those Aegis members really wanted to help, they would join the Aurors. Oh! Harry, have you figured out what you want to do?”

“...Definitely _not_ joining the Aurors,” Harry says.

Hermione nods. “Yes, it’s probably better for you not to join them, you can make a greater impact influencing policy directly…”

Harry listens with half an ear. He’s not like Hermione, able to plan years into the future. There’s still Aegis to deal with, the wrong atmosphere in Hogwarts, and many of the jobs Hermione mentions is useless if Harry can’t get the scores required for them, and _no,_ he’s not going to enter with ‘the boy who lived’ back-door pass…But he knows she means wells, so he eats the food that Draco packed for him quietly.

***

As the new week arrives, as Draco predicted, the third years have also given up Potions and Muggle studies—Muggle studies used to be an elective, but is now compulsory post war from first to fifth year.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout both personally give Draco their promise to look after the Slytherins during their classes, meaning that the first years return to Charms and Herbology respectively.

As for their other classes…. The History of Magic Professor Binns is hardly aware of anything. While the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor is not antagonistic, the nature of practicals makes it too easy to “accidentally” hurt someone; Astronomy happens mostly in the dark. And the new Transfiguration professor— _not_ McGonagall—is too unfamiliar for Draco to _trust_.

Professor Flitwick has been kind enough to gather the work materials from the other classes on Draco’s behalf. Using these materials, combined with their own old notes, Draco supervises Potions in Snape’s old laboratory, holds Astronomy in the Head Boy room by charming the ceiling, while he and Felicity take over the teaching of Defence.

The days pass as Slytherin House settles into the new routine. After Coates’ reprimand, the Defence, and Transfiguration professors pull Draco aside in their classes to tell him off about _allowing_ the first years to skip class and laze around.

“If you truly want to help, please teach my Slytherins in a separate class,” he tells them plainly.

“This is _post war_ , do you _really_ expect us to give any House special treatment?” the Transfiguration professor says.

“No, I did not expect it at all. Now please allow me to leave for my next class.”

And on Wednesday afternoon, McGonagall calls Draco (and therefore Pansy and Harry) to her office.

“...So you are _all_ encouraging this?” she says with a deep tiredness in her voice.

“It’s _not_ about encouragement,” Draco says coolly. “It’s more about the effective use of class time. Sitting in class in a disruptive environment is wasteful for everyone involved. Rest assured that the Slytherins will hand in their assignments on time.”

McGonagall rubs her forehead. “Yes, I thought so. I have sent some letters out to find a second set of Professors...Unfortunately, whether or not I can appoint them depends on the Ministry. As you may know, the Ministry has taken control over most of the Hogwarts Board.”

“Then don’t appoint them,” Pansy says. “Have them as _invited_ professors.”

McGonagall’s eyes flash. “I’ll see what I can do. As I understand it, Professor Flitwick has been helping you. If there is anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“If _you_ could come back as the Transfiguration Professor…” Draco says.

“If I _could_ ,” McGonagall says in a very dry tone. “Teaching is much preferable to dealing with the Hogwarts Board of Governors at the moment. Go, I won’t delay your afternoon any longer.”

Once they leave her office, Harry says, “Wasn’t your dad on the Hogwarts Board?”

Draco scoffs. “Obviously not anymore.”

“I imagine Ministry people took a number of places…” Pansy mutters.

*

It’s late Thursday night by the time Draco finishes helping the first years with all their other assignments that will be sent to the relevant professors on Friday morning. He shoos them all to bed—even if they’re only attending two classes, they need to keep a good sleep schedule.

_Then_ , he takes out his own assignments to do. He’s not the only one—there are some other upper years seated around the study area in the Slytherin Commons.

His Potions essay comes first—he is _not_ going to allow Garren to mark him down. After he finishes that, Draco takes out his Charms assignment next. At the loud scraping sound of the chair against the floor, Draco looks up.

“I remember you harping on about my bedtime when I first came to Slytherin,” Harry says, plopping unceremoniously on the chair opposite Draco’s.

“I was preemptively fixing bad habits coming from Gryffindor,” Draco drawls.

Harry sticks his tongue out. “You don’t need to ask, Pansy already made me do my assignments.”

“More motivating that Granger?”

“Hermione doesn’t blackmail me,” Harry huffs.

Draco smirks. “Very good, I should acquire Pansy a present.”

Harry stares at him. “You’re _evil_.”

Draco shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve known that for seven years, surely.” He pointedly sits his quill back in its little holder, steeples his fingers, and gives Harry a serious look. “How may I help you?”

“Come to bed.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, and Harry’s cheeks redden.

“Why are you looking at me like that?! _Pansy_ told me to tell you to go to bed.”

“ _Did_ she? Surely she would tell me herself.”

Harry gives him a grumpy look. “It was definitely her! Believe me, you git!”

“Unfortunately, I still require another hour on this assignment,” Draco says. “Is it that you—or Pansy—are unable to sleep without me?”

“ _Malfooooyyyy_...At this rate, will you ever sleep? Why are you teaching so many classes for the first years?”

“Because I’m intelligent,” Draco drawls.

Harry rolls his eyes. “What happened to your beauty sleep? You don’t even sleep in! We already got rid of Greyback...Charms homework, you said? Flitwick likes you, he’ll definitely give you an extension.”

“Then I should start on my Defence paper.”

“ _I’ll_ teach Defence tomorrow with Felicity, and you can work on your Defence paper then. I’m good at teaching defence. You even had it as one of my career options.”

Draco stares at him and slowly smirks.

“... _What_?” Harry protests.

Draco packs up his work and stands up. “Thank you for volunteering.”

Harry slaps him on the arm. “ _Ugh_ , Malfoy! Don’t take credit, I was thinking of doing it anyway.”

“Yes, yes,” Draco says with an indulgent tone. “Now, let’s go to bed.”

“You’re walking in front of me so that Pansy sees you first,” Harry grins.

Draco’s lips curl up and he lets Harry push him ahead.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins Draco becoming not just the Head of Slytherin, but a mini potions professor too??????? XD
> 
> _Dark Wizard Infighting! Aegis in cahoots with dark wizards! Aegis is actually a dark wizard organisation!_  
>  **Pansy** : *sucking a red lollipop* heh, child's play.  
>  **Harry** : ....please use your powers for good....
> 
> **Draco** : *prepares breakfast for Harry*  
>  **Draco** : *wraps a scarf around Harry*  
>  **Draco** : *sleeps next to Harry and gives him head pats at night to help him sleep*  
>  **Draco** : *nods to self* Yes, this is perfectly normal friend behaviour.  
>  **Harry** : ??????????? 😳😳😳 !!!!!!!!
> 
> *meanwhile, in the alternate universe*  
>  **Draco** : *prepares breakfast*  
>  **Harry** : kiss! 😘  
>  **Draco** : *wraps scarf*  
>  **Harry** : kiss! 😘  
>  **Draco** : *sleeps next to Harry*  
>  **Harry** : kiss kiss kiss!! ε٩(๑> ₃ <)۶з 🥰🥰🥰  
> *cough cough* they definitely have their own bed now in the alternate universe. Pansy tearfully makes a Draco-body-pillow with an embedded heating charm.
> 
> [Meanwhile, Harry wakes up from a dream about the alt!verse: 😢]


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter~! (=^_^=) Thank you for everyone's support!

Friday cannot come soon enough. Friday dinner in the Great Hall is loud, but that doesn’t stop Draco from making out the poisonous comments. It’s as though those students _want_ Draco to hear.

“ _Class is **so** much better without those bloody Slytherins.”_

“ _Didn’t you read the papers? Someone wants to make a petition to remove Slytherin from Hogwarts altogether…”_

“ _There’s no good from Slytherin. It even corrupted **Harry** …”_

Draco’s eyes narrow at the Ravenclaw student side-eyeing Slytherin and Gryffindor and where Harry is sitting. He makes a strike against them in his heart.

_“I heard Aegis tried to get Harry Potter treated, but he refused.”_

“ _Oh—you listen to their new radio broadcast too? I missed one night, and don’t have the password for the next one.”_

_“ **Shhh** , some of those Slytherins might be listening.”_

Draco doesn’t need a secret radio broadcast to know the trail of destruction Aegis is leaving—to rival Greyback’s previous destruction.

Except, Greyback's assaults had been focused on farms and village properties, while Aegis is targeting all the old pureblood houses. And given how interconnected the pureblood houses are, it’s no secret that if _one_ person has Death Eater connections, then almost all of them have Death Eater connections.

The Ministry remains as inefficient as ever, putting it nicely. _Useless._ If it weren’t for Draco would they have caught Greyback in a year’s time? Two years? Three? They’re just like Aegis, going from the low-lying rotten fruit and not daring to cut down the tree.

Pansy nudges Draco for his attention.

“Everyone has finished eating now. Time to go,” she says pointedly. She frowns and leans in closer. “Your eyes have changed, a little. Do you need to...go out?”

Draco grimaces. He forces himself to take a deep breath and count all the bonds between him and his Slytherins. Right now, no Slytherin is in immediate danger nor pain. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

All the Slytherin students at dinner stand up smoothly and head out. Draco glances over to the Gryffindor table and meets Harry’s eyes. Harry nods and stands up.

Granger grabs his arms and says something.

Harry tugs her off and heads towards Draco, but Granger jumps up from her seat to follow them out. Weasley looks at them, mouth stuffed full of food, but ultimately doesn’t get up.

“Harry...Harry...why don’t you return to Gryffindor?” Granger reaches out and grabs him before he can join Draco’s side.

Pansy stares at Granger. “What happened to our acquaintanceship merely months ago?” she says with a slightly mocking tone.

Granger looks at them with distaste. “That was before I realised you all haven’t _actually_ changed. I can’t believe you’ve been asking the house-elves for all your meals! Don’t they have enough work already? Do you even pay them?”

“ _That_ is under the purview of Blaise Zabini and Jamie Ottley and Alyss Singh,” Draco says. “However, it is their _job_ to feed us.”

If anything, Granger gets even angrier. “So you don’t even _know_. Don’t you see, Harry? He’s still treating them like slaves! You said Malfoy took over the leadership of the Slytherins. Then it’s _his fault_ they’re isolating themselves! This is how people become narrow-minded! By keeping the _impressionable_ first and second years locked up inside the Slytherin Dungeons, he can freely indoctrinate them with whatever pureblood supremacy nonsense! _Harry_.” Granger’s voice takes on a pleading tone. “It’s not safe in Slytherin anymore—”

Draco gives Granger a cold look. “Oh? Are you planning an assault on Slytherin?”

Granger flushes. “Of course not! But can you really say you don’t have any connections with, oh, the neo Death Eaters, or anyone else like that?!”

“Wizarding Britain is not a big place. I likely know them,” Draco says coldly. “Granger, let go of Harry.”

“That’s not the full story, Hermione,” Harry says tightly. “Please let go of my arm, it’s hurting me.”

Granger holds on tighter for a moment and then yanks her hand back in shock. “Your _magic_ , Harry. You’ve gotten angrier and angrier lately, it’s getting out of control. There are even rumours that you’re the next Dark Lord, and if anyone’s felt your magic, I’m not surprised!”

Harry flinches. “I’m _never_ going to become something like _Voldemort_.”

“No, you go around _threatening_ other students with your magical power instead!”

Draco steps forward. “He doesn’t do it on purpose, Granger.”

Granger glares at him. She takes a deep breath, and says in a forced, even tone, “Then we need to practice control, Harry. Come, I can find some books for you.”

“I can also teach you,” Draco says. “But if you want to go with them…”

Harry looks at him and tugs free from Granger’s grip. “I’ll see you and Ron tomorrow at breakfast, alright?”

Granger stares, a flush rising to her cheeks. “You’d choose _him_ over us?”

“Hermione, I don’t even sleep in the same dorm room as you,” Harry says. “Draco and Pansy will make sure I do my homework. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He darts forward and gives Granger a quick hug. “Hermione, don’t worry, okay? Can’t you _trust me_?”

Granger is speechless for a long moment. “...I, of course, Harry.”

Harry nods. He farewells her again and heads to Draco’s side. “Let’s go.”

“Have a good evening, Granger,” Draco says politely.

As they pull away, Pansy sighs. “I can’t believe people think you’re the next Dark Lord. Has anyone _seen_ you?”

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Harry says drily. He glances over his shoulder, and his face drops.

Cautiously, Draco brushes Harry’s arm. “If it’s any comfort, _we_ do appreciate your choice to continue sleeping in Slytherin.”

Pansy slings an arm around Harry. “Do you like personal-heater-Draco that much?” she teases. “Maybe we should get a private bed for just you and Draco…”

Harry’s cheeks darken. “What are you talking about?” he mutters. He turns pleading eyes at Draco.

Draco smirks but takes pity on him. “Come now, Pansy, let the poor boy have some personal space.”

Pansy looks at Draco with an incredulous look. “Oblivious!” she mutters under her breath.

“About _what_?” Draco prods her, but Pansy darts away.

“Forget it, Draco, I’ll teach Astronomy to the first years tonight, you can teach Harry control instead. Take the dorm room.”

*

Harry sits nervously on the bed. _There’s Draco’s pillow, there’s my pillow…_

Harry shakes those thoughts away. Right now, he’s waiting for Draco to teach him magical control. _What does even teaching magic control **mean**?_ Harry, just like other wizards, had accidental magic as a child but he’s not a child anymore.

The door opens, followed by Draco’s smirk. “Ah, you’re sitting there so obediently.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “What? You rather that I mess the room while you’re gone?”

“Has that happened before?”

“Not at _Hogwarts_ ,” Harry says.

Draco sits on the bed next to him, eyes scanning over Harry’s body. Harry tries not to squirm.

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with letting your magic out. It’s a good intimidation tactic.”

“Then why does Hermione—”

“Your magic must feel abrasive to her.” The corner of Draco’s lips goes up. “It doesn’t to me.”

“You…!” Harry’s heart thuds in his chest. How has he not realised how _flirty_ Draco’s words are? Is he doing it on purpose? Or is this just how he talks normally?????!!

“But to keep your magic close to you is a skill in and of itself. It has similarities with occlumency, so Pansy is _really_ the most suitable to teach you. Why she wants me to do it instead, I have no idea,” Draco rolls his eyes.

Harry grimaces. “Occlumency? I’m crap at that…”

“ _Similarities_ , Harry,” Draco says. “The first step is for you to _recognise_ magic. Every person senses magic in a different way. Do you remember the Yule ritual, and how you felt weird?”

Harry reflexively rubs his arms. He remembers how the magic had tingled under his skin, deep into his bones. 

“Your own magic occupies your body all the time, hence it feels natural and difficult to distinguish.” Draco grabs Harry’s hands. “Now, can you feel my magic?”

Draco’s hands are warm and dry…. Harry’s body feels hot.

_No! Focus!!!_

“I—I don’t know,” Harry mumbles.

“Try again.” Draco’s fingers press against Harry’s skin.

Harry’s fingers and palms tingle from Draco’s touch—no, that tingle must be Draco’s magic?

( _...Then...then maybe those “feelings” are just manifestations of Draco’s magic…)_

Beyond the warmness of Draco’s hands, there’s a soft waveness, flickeriness. It flows along the surface of Draco’s skin, wrapping itself around Harry’s hands protectively.

“Can you feel it?” Draco says softly.

Harry jolts. “Y-yes, got it,” he quickly says.

“Now imagine your magic as an aura around you—I know, I can see it. When you breathe in, gather that magic, wrapping it around up. As you breathe out, disperse it under your skin instead of outside in the air.”

Harry’s brow wrinkles in concentration. He envisions his magic as wisps of silvery light, like the wisps of a Patronus. A light breeze whirls around him as he gathers the magic, making him feel a little twitchy and needing to jump up and _move_.

Draco gives a short laugh. “Uncomfortable?”

Harry pulls his hands back, rubbing his arms. “It’s like my skin is too small,” he says, lips turning down.

Draco tilts his chin up. “Are you _trying_ to show off how much magic you have?” he drawls.

Harry smirks. “Are you saying I have more than you?”

Draco’s eyes narrow. He rubs Harry’s head, hard. “Practice more, you’ll get used to it. Or you can simply use up your magic, or leave it floating around.”

Harry laughs, weakly pushing Draco’s hands away. “Why do you keep messing my hair?!!”

Draco smirks. “Because you make _that_ kind of expression every time I do it. If only I had known how easy it was to tease you.”

 _Ba-dump. Ba-dump!_ Heat spreads to Harry’s ears. “Whatever, I would have jinxed you so badly…” He stands up. “There’s still time before bed, I’m going to do some work,” he announces.

“Hm, I still have my Charms assignment,” Draco agrees. He nudges Harry out of the room ahead of him.

Now that Harry is aware, he can clearly sense the warm-tingle-flickering of Draco’s magic.

He already knows just how torturous it will be to sleep next to Draco tonight.

But at the same time...he doesn’t want to return to the single bed. Such is Harry’s life...

***

Two days later, on a _Sunday_ , Hermione has organised a meeting with Garren.

Harryinwardly sighs as he trails along with Hermione and Ron. He doesn’t want to speak with Garren—maybe it’s the mood of the other Slytherins that has affected him, or maybe Garren’s just crap. But regardless, Harry pulls a polite smile on his face as they approach Garren’s office.

Professor Garren greets them at the door to his office and leads them inside. Hermione stares at all the books lining the bookshelves, her eyes brightening and for a moment, it feels like old times.

The disappointed and annoyed look in her eyes when she glances at him is not “as old times” though. It’s been two days since they’d fought, and she’s still disappointed in him, even though he told her that Draco really did teach him a little magical control.

Harry sits back as Hermione speaks. She has organised this meeting to discuss more effective measures of ensuring unity, and with all her determination and flush of success at securing this meeting, Harry hasn’t been able to tell her that Garren is _not_ the person she should be talking to.

“We need to _learn_ about each other,” Hermione is saying. “Once we can understand each other, and realise that we’re all the same, once people _apologise_ , the fighting will stop.”

“Indeed,” Garren says, bestowing Hermione with a smile. “Nonviolent reform is the way forward.”

“ _Exactly_. There’s Muggle Studies, but it’s—it’s hardly _anything_. Students are taught about random muggle items, not _culture and values_. There’s so much more!”

 _What about wizarding culture?_ Harry's missed out on so much of his dad’s culture, both the wizarding and the Indian side. What about Samhain and Yule, that Draco had to teach Harry about?

“Why don’t you lead a class?” Garren muses. “It would be good for your record. Of course, we’ll have to speak with Professor Coates. Perhaps a co-led class.”

Hermione’s eyes widen. “Non-assessed, open to all,” she mutters. “It would have to be after classes, or on the weekend.”

“I’m sure Professor McGonagall would allow you the use of the Great Hall. This is the kind of unity initiative she has been looking for.”

Garren and Hermione continue to discuss the specifics and then move onto topics they could teach about, like science. Ron slumps, clearly bored. Harry listens quietly, if only so that he can warn Draco and the others if necessary.

As the meeting concludes, Garren turns to Harry. “And how are you, Mr Potter? You’ve now been in Slytherin for almost two months.” He gives a nod to Hermione. “I understand your impulse to join Slytherin. However, this is not necessary, and I’m very sure the Sorting Hat will gladly return you to Gryffindor.”

“Actually,” Harry says, “I like Slytherin a lot. It’s a lot calmer, and everyone is really welcoming. Now if only the _rest_ of the school would realise that.”

Garren’s smile becomes tight, and Hermione looks a beat away from dismissing Harry’s words.

“Very good, then,” Garren is forced to say.

“I’m going to start planning those lessons and writing to Professor McGonagall,” Hermione says promptly the moment they leave Garren’s office.

“Wizard’s chess, Harry?” Ron prompts. “And Ginny bought a new Exploding Snap deck—”

“I think I’ll go back to Slytherin now,” Harry says.

Ron frowns. “Do you seriously prefer the _Slytherins_ over us?”

Harry runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Hermione is staring at him, daring him.

“I promised to teach Defence to the first and second years,” Harry admits. “If I don’t, Draco will do it and—”

“You’re teaching them?” Ron makes a face.

“It’s not your job,” Hermione says. “They should just attend class like everyone else. If they’re not going to class, then what is the point of staying at Hogwarts? For the _atmosphere?_ ”

“It’s good practice for me,” Harry says. “Hermione, don’t you remember that Defence professor was one of my possible career options?”

Hermione blinks. “...Yes. But that doesn’t erase the fact that you clearly prefer them over _us_.”

Harry stares at Hermione and the agreeing Ron in disbelief. “Am I not allowed to have Slytherin friends? What happened to _inter-House unity_? Are you my parents? Are you going to vet my future boyfriend?! Why...why aren’t you on _my_ side? I want you to get along with Draco and the others! I want my friends to be happy!”

Hermione scoffs. “Can’t you see that your _Draco_ is trying to make you alienated from us?”

“I spend my entire weekends with you. I eat meals with you. I spend class time with you. That’s _a lot_ of time!”

“You should be working on your magic control,” Hermione bites out.

 _Shit_. Harry reigns his magic in, which makes him feel antsier. He takes another deep breath and exhales.

“It’s just a lot, okay. Sure, Greyback is locked up, but Aegis is still out there. There’s no house unity at all. We can’t expect the Professors to do everything...You shouldn’t have gone to Garren, you know,” Harry adds, a little spitefully. “He’s not the Head of Slytherin anymore. Not according to Hogwarts. Keep that a secret, yeah?”

“That makes zero sense, Harry. McGonagall chose Professor Garren, not a _student_.”

Harry gives a hollow smile. “Oh, actually, the _Ministry_ picked Garren, not McGonagall. Hogwarts doesn’t agree with the Ministry either.”

“Are you saying Hogwarts is sentient? Buildings can’t be _sentient_ ,” Hermione scoffs. “ _Hogwarts, a History_ , would have clearly mentioned something as big as this.”

“What about the Room of Requirement? We _think_ about what we want, and Hogwarts provides.”

“It’s clearly due to the enchantments on the Room!” Hermione replies in frustration. “I already explained this years ago. Thinking about your wishes whilst walking back and forth forms a rudimentary ritual. Magic infused in the room reacts to your magic and temporarily transfigures and reconfigures to your desire. _Your desire_ , not the Hogwarts’ desire.”

“Ron, can’t old buildings be sentient?”

Ron, who has been swinging his gaze back and forth, blinks in surprise. “I don’t know. You hear about the old pureblood houses being nasty—though it’s not clear if the houses themselves are nasty or the people inside them have rigged up curses,” he quickly adds under Hermione’s glare.

“At best, Hogwarts would appear sentient in the way a smart computer does to someone who doesn’t know how it works,” Hermione says to Harry. “And _if_ the Slytherins are your friends...what’s stopping you from staying a _Gryffindor_ and meeting _them_ outside classes the way friends do?”

Harry tries not to squirm under her gaze. “I don’t know. I like the atmosphere there better…”

He’s thinking about how many of the Slytherins have accepted him, and don’t act like he’s _Harry Potter_. Even if some of them are pretending, it’s good enough for Harry.

He’s thinking about how he’s not entirely sure he feels safe in Gryffindor anymore. Not with Mason and Taylor and their friendship groups eyeing him across the common room. Not with how Creevey led those people to Slytherin’s entrance.

He’s thinking about how warm it is to spend time with Draco and Pansy and Blaise, and even the annoying Nolan...

Ron gives him a look of disbelief. “It’s all _green_ and creepily underwater.”

Harry gives a noncommittal shrug. The Slytherin Commons is more than that; it seems as though it’s changing every day whenever Blaise and Draco convene with Hogwarts and the house-elves. “It grows on you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Seriously, Ron, Hermione, you’re both still my best mates. But I really _do_ have to teach the first and second years. I need to prepare my materials.”

Hermione’s lip trembles. “Fine. Teach them well…”

“Don’t work _too_ hard,” Ron adds, slapping Harry on the back.

They mutually part ways, and Harry tries not to sigh. So much for House unity, when he himself can barely retain his friendships.

 _How about Luna_? Harry muses as he makes his way down to Slytherin. Luna is friendly with Draco, despite everything. Neville is friends with Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff who Harry likes, and Neville is fundamentally a good guy—a better guy than Harry. _Neville_ doesn’t fight with his friends like Harry just did.

If Harry can pull all of them together in a room, Luna and Neville and Hannah, along with Draco—or maybe Blaise—then they would truly form some kind of rudimentary house _alliance_.

 _Alliance_ might be the keyword. A bubble of excitement grows in Harry. Draco would _love_ this plan, he’s absolutely sure of it.

“...Harry? There you are.”

Harry turns to see Dennis Creevey approach him.

“I was waiting in the kitchens.”

Harry frowns. “We didn’t plan anything. Is there something you wanted?”

Dennis smiles. “I know you’re still good, Harry, no matter what others say.” He pulls out a spherical object, glittery glass and metal. “ _Initio_.”

“Dennis,” Harry says warningly. It first, nothing happens. But then something starts tugging at him. Like it’s trying to pull something out of Harry’s throat. Harry’s breath quickens. “ _Dennis!_ ” He tries to step back, but instead, he’s pulled forward. It’s hard to breathe. His skin feels like a thousand cuts have laid waste to it. His magic peels like extracting knives.

“It’s for your own good,” Dennis says. “This will take all the dark magic from you. And then you’ll be entirely Good Harry again.”

“I don’t _think_ that’s it,” Harry forces out, trying to push down the pain. They’re on the kitchen floor. He’s so close to the Slytherin Commons.

“Hah! I knew you could do it!” Taylor’s voice is loud and jarring.

Harry collapses.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soz to Hermione for being demoted to cannon fodder, this author still has ways to go about creating complex characters. We’ll see whether she can redeem herself, hm? 🙈🙈 Oh yeah, for a fic about how Draco helps the world, see [The World Starts Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929276/chapters/37140014)
> 
> **Q:** What do you think of Harry's magical aura?  
>  **Hermione** : *flinches* it's much too aggressive!  
>  **Pansy:** Domineering and evil, I like it.  
>  **Nolan** : Hff. What’s so great about it?  
>  **Draco** : *smiles teasingly* It’s nice and lovely  
>  **Harry** : (⊙_⊙) 😳😳😳
> 
> **Draco** : hehehe, teasing Harry platonically is fun  
>  **Harry** : _(:3 」∠)_ (sobs in confused)  
>  **Pansy** : """platonic""" (→_→)  
> Pansy is dedicated to setting up "opportunities" for Draco and Harry but is ultimately defeated by Draco’s obliviousness 🙈
> 
> *meanwhile, in the alternate universe*  
>  **Hermione** : *tearfully* he's abandoned us (his parents) for his boyfriend!!! [[the cabbage we raised is getting eaten by a pig (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ ]]  
>  **Ron** : block my eyes for me, they're about to do “it” again 😬  
>  **Harry** : *kisses Draco* I'll see you later~  
>  **Draco** : *kisses Harry* okay, stay safe~ *head pats*  
>  **Harry** : (≧∀≦) *kiss kiss!*  
> (Everyone is stuffed with dog food*. It is a....good (?) bonding experience???)  
> (*single people=single dogs; dog food: public displays of affection from couples)


	27. Chapter 27

Draco is doing his work in the Slytherin Commons when his pupils suddenly constrict into narrow slits.

He doubles over, clutching at his heart, feeling like something is being ripped out. His magic lashes out, but finds no foe to fight.

“ _Draco!_ ” Pansy leaps out of her seat to Draco’s side.

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco hisses. He can feel his magic now racing down their bond, doing whatever it can to keep Harry alive. Somehow, Harry’s magic has dropped so low that his body has started shutting down, but there’s no physical injury. Something is very, very wrong.

“I need to go.”

“ _We_ need to go.”

Draco doesn’t argue. He sucks in sharp breaths, focusing on bringing the dragon up very close to his skin. Pansy runs after him out of the Slytherin Dungeons. They dash up the stairs, Draco’s bond to Harry pulling and pulling.

_FIND HARRY PROTECT HARRY **KILL ATTACKERS** , _every single instinct screams.

As they turn the corner, Draco hisses at the scene before him.

Harry is on the floor, slumped as though he fainted on the spot.

Meanwhile, Creevey is fighting with Taylor, and Taylor’s friends are watching as Creevey gets beaten up.

“ _How dare you do this!!_ ” Draco growls, deeper than humanly possible. “Move the fuck away from him!”

The Gryffindors all flinch. Draco sneers, boldly pushing aside the humans blocking his way. Oh, they’re such _tiny humans_ , he could chew them and spit them out so _easily_ …

Harry’s body twitches. Draco thunders forward, falling to his knees. He lays a hand on Harry’s chest. Where Harry’s magic should lie is a great emptiness—

“I didn’t, I didn’t—” Creevey sobs. “It wasn’t me!”

“Shut up, Creevey,” Pansy snaps. “If you really want to help, scram! Fucking _Gryffindors_!”

“No, I’m not leaving Harry with you!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Draco growls. He throws a ball of fire behind him towards the annoying voice, uncaring of where it lands.

_Harry...Harry, you git, you can’t die because of some Gryffindors!_

Draco forces his own magic in through their bond, for a moment it exists in the cavity of Harry’s chest...before being pulled away.

Draco’s eyes follow it to a soul orb, lying to the side of the corridor. With wordless _accio_ , it starts rolling to him. It’s burning hot, Harry’s magic concentrated all inside. Draco’s lip curls up in distaste.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Creevey calls out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Malfoy,” Taylor snickers.

“Pansy, step back and shield yourself. The next corridor is better,” Draco says slowly.

Pansy sees the orb and sucks in a sharp breath. “ _Draco_. We need to break that _carefully!_ ”

“No, someone has modified this. We don’t have time.”

Pansy hisses. “Fine. _Fine_.” She backs away.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

The stunner hits Draco point blank, but it’s weak. Draco’s concentration is almost entirely on the orb as it rolls closer, its tendrils reaching out, wanting to hook themselves on _Draco_ as well as Harry. One hand on Harry’s chest, feeding him Draco’s magic. Other hand neatly catches the orb rolling towards him. It starts pulling his magic immediately.

But Draco is faster. His claws emerge, tightening their grip on the orb. Then, he starts to crush it.

“—No! You can’t— “ Creevey cries. “Aegis gave it to me! It’s _mine_ —”

Fire threatens to spill from Draco’s throat. He squeezes.

_**BANG!** _

Harry’s magic explodes out of the shattered orb, sharp and intense and a shade before overwhelming. It rushes, trying to find a home, trying to find its original home. Some of the puny Gryffindors cry out; portraits flee their paintings, and the weave of Hogwarts’ magic ruptures. 

With a sharp implosion, all that magic tries to re-enter Harry in one go. 

_NO_ , Draco growls at it. He throws his own magic out like a net, like sharp, digging claws that pulls the magic back, slowing its descent. Not all of it should return, either. Some of it is Draco’s magic, some of it is the magic of the badges, some of it is _Hogwarts_ ’ magic. Draco does his best to sift out what isn’t Harry’s, but with the intensity, he can’t filter it out entirely.

Harry starts to groan. He shifts, curling up on himself. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he croaks out.

“Just hold,” Draco says gently. “You can do it, Harry. It’s _your_ magic.” He tucks back some of Harry’s curls. “See, that’s better, isn’t it?”

Harry lets out a shudder. “Yeah.” He groans and turns onto his back. “My head hurts like _fuck_.”

Draco lets out his own exhale. He has found Harry. He has protected Harry. Now… “Creevey did this.”

“I don’t think he _meant_ it,” Harry tries.

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco says, shifting closer to Harry. “He must _pay_.” He takes out his wand and casts some basic diagnostic and healing charms.

Harry’s eyes close. “Can we not talk about this right now?” he says weakly.

“Yes, you rest.” He strokes Harry’s hair, and surveys the damage around them.

All the Gryffindors, of course, ignored his comment to flee. They’re all in various states on the floor, a few meters back from there they had been originally standing. Draco narrows his eyes, his teeth sharpening. _Let’s just take them out **now** — _

Pansy, who did flee, dashes back. “Merlin, Harry! I’m so fucking glad you’re okay! Draco, where’s the soul orb? We need to take it in as evidence…” She grabs Draco’s shoulder, and whispers, “ _Get a grip, Draco!_ And if you can’t, go for a _fly_.”

Draco curls claws into his palm, the pain pulling him back. Fuck, he _does_ need to go for a fly soon.

“There’s _no way_ I’m leaving _any_ Slytherin right now, least of all Harry!” Draco bites back. But under Pansy’s sharp eye, he forces his breathing to become human again, reassures his instincts by focusing on the hum of the bonds in his chest.

Pansy summons gloves and a glass jar and carefully picks up the pieces of broken soul orb, not letting her magic touch it. “Draco, take Harry back.”

Harry stirs, trying to push himself up.

“Let me.” Draco slides an arm under Harry’s back, another arm under Harry’s legs, and lifts him up.

Harry squirms. “Do you have to carry me like this?”

“Would you rather I carry you over my shoulder?” Draco says. “Stop complaining, many people will _die_ for the opportunity to be held in my arms.”

Harry’s ear-tips go red. “Stuck up prat,” he grumbles. He lifts his head a little, and his gaze falls upon the downed Gryffindors. “Draco...what happened?”

“Backlash from your magic when it escaped from the soul orb.”

Harry pales. “You mean _my_ magic did this?”

Draco scoffs. “Stop worrying about them, _they_ caused this. Now, I can either take you to Pomfrey or…”

“No Pomfrey!”

Draco smirks. “Thought so.” With that, he steps over the limbs of the Gryffindor and carries Harry back down to Slytherin, leaving Pansy to do the cleanup; along the way back, they pass by Blaise and Felicity who Pansy has called via badge to help.

Blaise smiles knowingly, which Draco pointedly ignores. Of course Blaise doesn’t understand the _need_ that the dragon in Draco has to keep Harry as close as possible!

Back in the Slytherin Common, many eyes grow wide.

“If you _really_ want to help, fetch me a healing potion,” Draco says, looking over the much-too-curious Slytherins.

Nolan immediately jumps up, carrying a potion over to Draco. “Mr Malfoy, why are you carrying Potter? Why don’t you just levitate him?”

Harry coughs. “Yeah, why didn’t you?”

“Your magic is currently unstable, I prefer not to float you with _more_ magic,” Draco says. He sets Harry down on the Eighth Year’s dedicated sofa by the central firepit. “Thank you, Nolan.”

Harry sits up and downs the potion. Then he lies down again, grimacing.

“Are you sick, Potter?” Nolan asks, his lips twisted.

“Go back and do your work, Nolan,” Draco says in exasperation. “Harry, I’ll take you to bed.”

Ignoring the flushed embarrassment on Harry’s face, Draco lifts him and heads up the stairs. Harry remains quiet, not speaking until Draco sets him down on their large bed.

Harry immediately rolls away from Draco. “Later, you have to let _me_ carry you!” he grumbles.

“If you can catch me,” Draco says. “Harry.”

Harry looks back at him. “What?”

“The best way to recover and settle your magic is to sleep. But first...you need to tell me what happened.”

The teasing atmosphere drops in a heartbeat as resignation comes across Harry’s face. “It was Dennis Creevey...he came up to me as I was passing the Kitchen floor, held out the orb and said a spell. He said it was supposed to suck out just the dark magic.”

Draco sneers. “Magic inside a person’s body is rarely _dark_ nor _light_. It only becomes that once you cast a spell. Either Creevey is malicious, or he’s a tool. Regardless—”

“You can’t do anything to him, Draco!” Harry’s brows draw together in distress. “If you do, the Ministry will definitely capture you! We...we should report this to McGonagall. She can handle it.” Harry’s eyes narrow. “I mean it, Draco! If the Aurors take you away, then what would happen to Slytherin?”

Draco exhales angrily. “I’m only _not_ destroying Creevey because of you. If he does anything like this again in the future, don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

“McGonagall will deal with it, she’s fair,” Harry repeats stubbornly. “It’s getting late...I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

Draco grunts noncommittally, purposefully not reminding Harry about Pansy. And Creevey isn’t the only person Draco is angry about. “Where were Granger and Weasley? Why weren’t they accompanying you back? They should know it’s not safe.”

Harry looks away. “We...we fought. I forgot to ask them to come with me. Hermione took us to Garren to talk about _house unity_ , and I didn’t agree…”

Draco frowns. “You rest. I’ll teach Defence tonight.”

Harry pouts. “No, you’re not allowed, Draco! Schedule it for tomorrow instead, I’ll be fine by then…I mean it. Or else, give me a pepper up and some coffee.”

“Neither of those things will help your magic re-integrate,” Draco says. “Fine, rest in peace.”

Harry stares at Draco with narrowed eyes for a moment long. “Go, I _can_ get up and walk around the room if I need.”

Draco hesitates, but he ultimately leaves when Harry threatens to throw a pillow at him. His chest aches as the distance between them grows, but it’s not entirely the bond. He wants to stay by Harry’s side, hold him protectively in his hands.

The feeling is persistent, even though the bond tells him that Harry is safe in the dorm room. Draco frowns inwardly, rubbing his chest over his heart. This feeling makes him want to hold Harry again...

*

Pansy, after collecting all the soul orb pieces, closes the lid of the glass jar and sneers at the groaning and stirring Gryffindors on the ground.

“How uncouth,” comes Blaise’s voice as he and Felicity arrive.

“We’ll have to heal them,” Pansy says distastefully.

“ _Or_ we can put them in Madam Pomfrey’s purview,” Felicity suggests.

“We should just leave this trash to heal slowly and painfully,” Pansy replies, nudging Creevey with her foot. She kicks him in the shin. “Creevey! I thought Harry was your _hero_. Are you a real fan or an anti-fan? A moment later and Harry would have been dead! Or at best, made into a squib!”

Creevey sucks in a sharp pained breath. “You don’t understand!” His eyes redden, a glistening gathering at the corners. “That wasn’t meant to happen…”

Pansy glares down. “What did they _trick_ you into thinking would happen?”

Creevey presses his lips together. He props himself up, trying to shuffle away from Pansy.

Pansy’s lip curls in distaste. “Come on, tell me. If your actions were for the better good, then you don’t have anything to hide. Aegis gave you the soul orb, and you _fell for it_.” She stares into his eyes.

Creevey gulps fearfully. “It-it-it sucks dark magic! Good riddance to dark magic!”

“Soul orbs can consume _souls_ if you allow them to,” Pansy spits out. “I should make you feel the same pain that Harry did…” She sneers when Creevey shivers.

Turning away, she summons a house-elf to fetch Professor Flitwick. While she waits for him to come, she gathers all the hurt Gryffindors together, wrapping them up with ropes.

“...What happened here?” Flitwick looks around in disbelief.

“ _These_ Gryffindors almost killed Harry,” Pansy says, holding up her jar. “This is a soul orb that Aegis sent to Creevey.”

Flitwick becomes grave. “I see. Help me bring them to the Hospital Wing, and tell me exactly what happened…”

*

Meanwhile, as Pansy is interrogating Creevey, Blaise and Felicity deal with the clean up.

Blaise rests a hand against a wall of Hogwarts. Its physical structural integrity has weakened where Harry’s magic had pushed out, and its magical integrity has suffered damage. 

_Hogwarts, let me fix you_.

Hogwarts sighs under his fingers. Information flows into Blaise’s mind, and he works his magic.

Felicity does physical cleanup, fixing structural damage and righting portraits.

“Tch, you kids fighting and messing the halls _again_ ,” a man in one of the portraits says.

Felicity blinks, smiling without smiling. “Why didn’t you try to stop it in the first place? Alerted a professor when you saw those Gryffindors maliciously lurking?”

The portrait man blusters, but Felicity doesn’t care. _Portraits...everything is just a big show for them!_

***

When Draco wakes up the next morning, he brushes back Harry’s hair with his fingers. He can feel that Harry’s magic has settled back overnight.

Slowly, Pansy, then Blaise, wake up. Both of them have gone downstairs by the time Harry wakes up.

“Why don’t you sleep in today,” Draco tells Harry.

Harry shakes his head. “You know that if I don’t go, Hermione’ll come to Slytherin instead.”

Draco’s eyes narrow. “Then I can send her away.”

“ _Draco_ , I feel okay. It’ll just be sitting in class. If I stayed in Slytherin, I’ll have to _self_ -study.”

“Then you’re staying by me. And if Granger and Weasley want to be near you, then need to come to _us_.”

Harry smiles weakly. “Yeah…”

“Then get dressed, there will be a meeting for all Slytherins leaving the Commons about the soul orb.”

Harry nods. “Right. You go down first…”

*

After Draco leaves the room, Harry gingerly gets up. There’s still the feeling of magic not quite fitting under his skin, but _physically_ , he only feels tired, not painful.

_Right! I need to tell McGonagall what happened!_ He quickly scribbles a letter and summons a house-elf to send it to McGonagall. He then grabs his school robes to change into, but the house-elf soon returns.

“I being sorry, Mr Harry Potter, but Headmistress McGonagall is not here!” the house-elf says anxiously.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The house-elf shakes his head. “I not knowing!”

Harry frowns. “It’s fine, I can tell her later then...Thank you for your help.”

The house-elf trembles. “I can give Headmistress McGonagall the letter the moment she returns!”

“Okay, that would be very helpful,” Harry smiles kindly.

The house-elf nods and disapparates.

Harry’s smile drops. _Where can she be this early in the morning?_

*

Downstairs, everyone has gathered for Pansy’s briefing.

“Last night, a Gryffindor was found in possession of this soul orb,” Pansy says, lifting the jar with the broken pieces. Beside her, Draco obligingly shows an illusionary image of the whole soul orb to everyone.

“It’s a dark artifact, and it devours magic. By its nature, something physical can block it—distance being the best defense. Unfortunately, our badges will only buy us _time_ as it would absorb that first. From my preliminary analysis, this version has _some_ minor modifications. But as Harry experienced last night, it appears to still be lethal. So if you see it, _run_ , and alert one of us with your badge as soon as possible,” Pansy says.

Draco surveys the Slytherins. “Unfortunately, beyond these measures, we cannot guarantee your safety if you leave. This may have been a singular incident. But equally, Aegis may have sent soul orbs to multiple people inside Hogwarts. If you don’t want to leave, tell me now, and we’ll organise the schedule.”

“Will you be going to class?” a Slytherin asks.

“All the Eighth Years are,” Draco replies. “But I will react to any calls immediately.” _Because I can feel when things Go Wrong_.

The formal briefing ends there, as they move into organising who is leaving and who isn’t.

What Draco hates most is the uncertainty of it. Why do _they_ have to hide away?

*

Granger is waiting outside the Great Hall. She avoids Draco’s cold gaze and looks at Harry.

“So, how did your defence teaching last night go?” she asks.

Harry shoots a quick look at Draco, and says, “Um, I didn’t, I was recovering…”

“ _Recovering?!_ ”

“Dennis ambushed me on the way back. Ben Taylor and some others were there too.”

“But—why would they attack you?!” Granger grits her teeth. “That must be why I haven’t seen them this morning…”

“They’re all in the Hospital Wing,” Pansy puts in. “Now, can we please enter the Great Hall?”

Draco agrees with her. He places a hand on Harry’s back and gently pushes him forward.

“Malfoy...Harry sits with us in the morning,” Weasley says.

Draco looks coldly at both Weasley and Granger. “As the two people who made Harry walk back alone, how could I trust you?”

“Draco…” Harry looks back.

“If your friends truly like you, they’ll swallow self-importance and join us on the Slytherin table.”

“Hermione, Ron, sit with me.”

Draco and Harry sit with their backs against the wall; with a strong unwillingness, Granger and Weasley sit opposite them. Draco makes sure that Harry starts before beginning to eat breakfast himself.

“Ugh, it’s all the fancy food again,” Weasley grumbles. “Where’s a good full english breakfast?” A few seconds later, a full english appears in front of him.

Granger huffs. “Making the house-elves work again. If Dennis and the others are in the Hospital Wing, then you should be safe, Harry. There’s no need to sit here.”

“Then leave,” Draco says.

“...Harry and us, we’ve stuck together for seven years. You’re underestimating us,” Weasley says, while his hands pick up his knife and fork to eat.

Pansy scoffs. “Can you defend against soul orbs? Do you even know what they _are_? Your Gryffindors used one on Harry, and you’re fucking _lucky_ that Harry’s alive.”

“ _What_?” Granger and Harry say simultaneously.

“It could have _killed_ me?” Harry asks, turning to Draco.

“That _is_ the purpose of soul orbs,” Draco says. “They were originally developed to be used on dying wizards. They were going to die regardless, and thus thought useful to harvest their magic before it dissipates back to the earth. Turning it to other uses is simple. The main bottleneck is the creation of these orbs requires expensive materials, time, and skill. And they can only be used once.”

“So it’s a _dark artifact_ ,” Granger says.

“One that _Aegis_ gave to Creevey,” Pansy retorts.

Weasley gapes. “You mean...Aegis is really a dark wizard organisation?!”

“It’s a _light_ artifact if used with full consent of the dying individual,” Draco counters. “Except, no one ever bothered to build a consent clause into its workings. However, the _dastardly Malfoys_ do not use these. It affords us power for only a short amount of time. But the earth suffers. It is better to return that magic to the earth and allow it to replenish.”

Harry looks at him. “Like at Yule.”

Draco bestows him a look of approval. “You’re learning.”

“How can you be sure it was _Aegis_ who sent it?” Granger cuts in. “They could have pretended, and Dennis simply fell for it.”

“Unfortunately...Aegis has told us their wish to _test_ for dark magic in Harry,” Draco says. “But I concede, it might not be them. Whoever it is, we _will_ find out.”

Granger’s jaw tightens. “Harry...what do you think of this?”

“I know that Aegis aren’t holy angels,” Harry says plainly. “Dennis said it’ll take the dark magic out of me.”

Granger purses her lips. “...Magic is magic, until it’s _used_ ,” she grudgingly admits. “It is impossible to separate your raw magic into dark and light...”

“Yeah…” Harry agrees.

Draco ignores the rest of Granger’s musings, concentrating on talk in the Great Hall instead.

“ _At this rate, we’ll have no more Slytherins by next week, hah!”_

_“Look what **I** got in the mail…”_

_“Potter’s magic is dark. I heard from…”_

_“No! He’s just been **corrupted**.”_

“ _I heard that Malfoy attacked Creevey and the others last night! He should be getting detention too!”_

Draco’s eyes flick to the high table, but McGonagall is not there. Foreboding clenches Draco’s stomach.

When the papers arrive, Draco can barely contain his urge to carry Harry back to the Slytherin commons.

> _**HARRY POTTER, NEXT DARK LORD?** _
> 
> **__**_Anonymous students at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, have told the_ Daily Prophet _of their fears of walking the same halls as our once-upon-hero, Harry Potter._
> 
> _“He’s so angry these days! He’s threatened me and my friends multiple times, just for walking in the same corridor as him!” writes a distraught student._
> 
> _“Of course, the professors don’t do anything about it.”_
> 
> The Daily Prophet _has contacted the Ministry on these concerns. Mr Graham Raywood, head of education, released the statement below._
> 
> _“In this post-war world, everyone is treated fairly. Regardless of Mr Potter’s history, we will endeavour to investigate this matter.”_
> 
> _A credible anonymous source informs us of the testing of Harry Potter’s magic. The_ Daily Prophet _have reports that the majority—if not all—of Mr Potter’s magic has turned dark. Has Mr Potter lost the battle against Voldemort after all? The Daily Prophet is reminded of the allegations that Mr Potter was able to enter Voldemort’s mind, and vice-versa. What irreparable damage has been done? We reached out to notable Healer Birchwood on this matter._
> 
> _“Whether or not Harry Potter has become a dark wizard, I implore the Ministry to bring him to St. Mungos for rigorous testing, both magically and psychologically…”_
> 
> _*_
> 
> _(second page)_
> 
> _**BILL TO REMOVE SLYTHERIN FROM HOGWARTS TO BE PUT FORTH TO WIZENGAMOT** _
> 
> _With the submission of the petition to remove Slytherin from Hogwarts, a collective of Wizengamot members have drafted a bill to remove Slytherin from Hogwarts. The bill is expected to appear in the next Wizengamot session, which will be held on Monday 1st February 1999._
> 
> _The bill is currently being drafted in consultation with the Hogwarts Board Of Governors..._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Draco goes on a rampage! But he decides that looking after Harry ≫≫≫≫destroying puny humans  
> Also, princess carrying Harry ≫≫≫≫ dealing with Creevey (^_<)〜☆
> 
> **Harry** : Why didn't you levitate me?  
>  **Draco** : *fck fck fck make up a reason quickly*  
>  **Draco** : Ummm because your magic is unstable, don't want to cast magic on you (never mind that the bond is magic, that Hogwarts is magic...*cough cough*)  
>  **Harry** : …I don’t know if that sounds legit or not but okay.  
>  **Nolan** : (→_→)
> 
> **Draco** : This feeling towards Harry...I...  
>  **Pansy** : *about to speak but suddenly Harry puts his hand over her mouth*  
>  **Draco** : ?  
>  **Harry** : 😇 Nothing!  
>  **Pansy** : *looks at Harry meaningful* _So it turns out you **like** this kind of thing…_
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*  
>  **Draco** : YOU DARED HURT MY BOYFRIEND! *kicks Creevey across the corridor*  
>  **Draco** : *princess carries Harry*  
>  **Harry** : 🥰 *snuggles up in Draco’s arms* Hmmm I feel better already~  
>  **Creevey** : (╯ಠ_ಠ）╯︵ ┳━┳ (well, he can’t actually table flip cos he’s lying on the floor groaning in pain)
> 
> I noticed that *cough cough* I may have more danmei type tropes in my writing now....😅😅😅
> 
> Also, today’s recommended fic has nothing to do with Under Dragon Wings! [eat a mango, gift a garden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357994/chapters/66850123) is an original fic co-written with toutcequonveut, and it’s a nonbinary/male pairing and features food and fluff and idiots to lovers. Please check it out!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't *plan* to make Wednesday updates a thing, but this chapter is a little short so here it is~

Draco folds the paper, showing the second page on the front with its headline, _**BILL TO REMOVE SLYTHERIN FROM HOGWARTS TO BE PUT FORTH TO WIZENGAMOT**_ , and holds it towards Granger’s face.

“Are you happy?”

Granger grips the paper, her eyes scanning quickly. “This…It’s a solution but...Hogwarts has always had four houses….But Salazar Slytherin _did_ walk away.”

Draco inwardly sneers. “Or maybe you don’t care about _us Slytherins_. Go to the first page.”

Granger flips to the first page. “This...utter hogwash!” she exclaims. “The _Daily Prophet_ is not worth the paper it’s printed on. Do they want to make Harry undesirable number one again? Haven’t they learnt their lesson?!”

“While there are people who believe this, Harry is not safe,” Draco says.

“I…” For once, Granger is speechless.

“Since Harry became a Slytherin, _we_ have all done our best to help him integrate and to ensure his safety. _You_ are the weak link. You failed to accompany Harry, you failed to notice that Creevey and the others had designs against Harry. Look at it from _my_ perspective, Granger. Right now, you have done the opposite of proving yourself.”

Granger glares at him with indignation.

Draco’s eyelids lower in a bittersweet victory. “Harry, have you finished eating?”

Harry has a glum look on his face. “Yeah… Hermione. I... You _know_ I can look after myself. But none of us expected Creevey to have that thing.”

Draco looks down the Slytherin table; everyone else has finished eating. “Slytherins, we are leaving. Granger and Weasley, it is your choice whether or not you follow us.”

“...I need to go to the Library first,” Granger says bitterly.

“Very well.”

Draco can see the conflicted expression on Harry’s face. But he will not compromise on safety, not right now.

*

At lunch time, Professor McGonagall is absent from the head table. Harry doesn’t like it, but at least Creevey and the others still haven’t been released from the Hospital Wing yet...

*

The NEWTs Charms class is orderly under Flitwick’s sharp eye. Right now, they’re practicing the new spellwork in pairs, when all of a sudden, magic is yanked out of Draco’s chest.

Draco gasps, falling to his knees. 

It’s not Harry—he’s safe, practicing his spellwork across the room with Luna Lovegood.

“...oh _no_ ,” Pansy says. She rushes over to Draco’s side, helping him up. “Professor Flitwick, sir, Draco’s sick. May I…”

Flitwick’s eyes widen. “Of course, of course! Go!”

Draco stumbles out, unsteady on his feet. He’s focusing his magic down the bond, trying to keep his Slytherin alive.

“Come _on_ , Draco!” Pansy urges. “Hurry!”

They end up at the Muggle Studies classroom. _The third years_. Nolan wasn’t afraid of the orbs, which bolstered the confidence of the other third years too, and Draco had thought that the biggest danger was in the corridors, where Professors aren’t watching.

They are all wrong. Worse, _Draco_ has greatly underestimated the threat!

Guilt slogs up Draco’s throat as he throws the door open and descends upon Sequoia Hawks, slumped over her table. A student seated behind her leans back, smirking. The soul orb is held in their hands under the fucking table, its aim pointed at Sequoia.

“What is the _meaning of this!_ ” Professor Coates shouts.

Draco grabs the table and compresses it small with a squeeze of wandless magic. He grabs the soul orb with one hand and lifts Sequoia up with the other arm. The orb starts pulling at his magic, weakening its hold on Sequoia.

“Don’t break it here!” Pansy shouts.

“Mr Malfoy…” Nolan pales.

“Explain yourself!” Coates starts, heading towards him.

“You saw her fall and you’re doing _nothing_ ,” Draco growls.

“She was clearly messing around—”

He strides out of the classroom, ignoring Coates’s shout of, “ _100 points from Slytherin!_ ”

With Sequoia in his arms, Draco breaks the soul orb. This time, he is much more prepared, catching Sequoia’s magic before it rebounds against Hogwarts. It helps that Sequoia isn’t as powerful as Harry.

Sequoia starts to gag. “Too much, I can’t, let me vomit—”

“You _can_ ,” Draco says, slowing down the return of magic further. “It’s your magic. It belongs to you.”

Sequoia grimaces. “But doesn’t my magic refresh after I sleep…”

“ _Sequoia_ ,” Draco says sternly. But at least this shows that she’s relatively okay. He sighs. “I should have put my foot down. I shouldn’t have trusted Coates…”

Pansy comes out of the classroom with the rest of the Slytherin third years. The other girls—Alberta Bulstrode, Raven Flint, and Rose Datta—cluster around Draco and Sequoia, while Nolan and Harley stay near Pansy’s side.

Rose looks hesitantly at Draco. “Was it...that orb?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe they dared to use it in class!” Nolan shouts, throwing a glare at the Muggle Studies classroom door.

Draco glances at Pansy, who gives him a slight nod.

“No one is attending _any_ of Professor Coates’ classes until she proves herself otherwise,” Draco decrees.

Pansy nods, beginning the process to send that information out to all the Slytherins via their badges. Draco leads the way back to the Slytherin Commons, Sequoia still in his arms, and a tail of third year Slytherins behind him.

Draco’s expression is heavy, and a growl hovers just under his throat.

They’ve crossed a line and Draco’s _not_ going to back down.

*

Pansy knows that Granger _could_ be correct, that it _could_ be a different group pretending to be Aegis.

But when she looked at that person’s memory, she found the same kind of anonymous letter as those who caused Aster to trip months ago.

And she knows another point that Granger doesn’t: the glass used in the orbs are muggle-formed, rather than magically made. That’s one of the reasons why Draco can crush them so easily.

*

Draco doesn’t attend class for the rest of the afternoon. Instead, he and Pansy are _disrupting_ classes, _accio_ ’ing any soul orbs and crushing them. Because _fuck_ the annoyance from the professors. _Fuck_ the cries of, “ _That’s mine!_ ” from those damned students.

The Defence Professor, Barron White, pales upon seeing the soul orb pieces in Draco’s hands. “This-this—” He turns to the student who had possession of it. “How did you get this? Do you realise this is a highly restricted item?”

The Ravenclaw’s face closes up. “Someone just sent me it, how do I know? They must have wanted to frame me!”

“And you thought bringing an unknown magical item to a class where spells are flying around to be a _good idea_ ,” Pansy says sarcastically. 

“We would appreciate it if you kept an eye out for them,” Draco says.

Professor White nods. “Yes. This matter must also be reported to the Ministry.”

The Ravenclaw pales, not that Draco cares _at all_.

*

Flitwick catches him at the end of the day. Draco is out on the Slytherin floor with Felicity, upgrading all their surveillance charms and scaring away students who want to linger.

“Mr Malfoy, I’ve _heard_ …”

Draco stops and turns to face him. “Sir,” he says respectfully. “You mean these?” He gives Flitwick the destroyed fragments of one of the soul orbs.

“...This _can’t_ be. These are extremely difficult to create!”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Draco says. He means it. “Your classes are a joy to attend, but unless every single student is searched for these, before each class, I must pull out my Slytherins until these orbs are _gone_.”

Flitwick frowns. “Of course. This is unacceptable. Have a good evening, I’ll update you as soon as I can.”

After Flitwick leaves, Draco and Felicity return to Slytherin. Everyone is back, even Harry, who’s in the corner with Blaise and Jamie doing who knows what.

Draco sighs, his eyes softening. He bolsters himself up when Aster and Mesa come up to him.

“Wolfsbane?” Aster says quietly.

“Yes.” The three of them head out to the Potions laboratory to brew the first of the daily doses before the next full moon.

*

Harry listens to Blaise’s update, his emotions more turbulent than ever. _Draco…_

“Yes, I agree, tonight is the best time.”

*

Dinner in the Slytherin Commons is a subdued affair, and everyone is feeling the strain when homework time comes around.

“Everyone deserves a break,” Blaise says, smiling faintly.

Draco quirks his lips and nods. Everyone immediately brightens up, putting away their books and splitting up into their friendship groups. Blaise gives Harry a look, and the two of them go off to their Secret Thing.

Not having to teach the younger years, Draco takes the opportunity to think about _how to deal_ with the soul orbs. He, Pansy, and Felicity gather near the central firepit, with multiple books stacked on the coffee tables.

“We need something like _anti-magic_ ,” Draco finally says, frustrated.

“Or a _mirror_. Or an infinite _loop_ ,” Pansy says slowly.

“Ideally, we’d deal with them _before_ they become activated,” Felicity says. “If we could have a specialised detection spell for them…”

“Pansy, have you noticed any particular unique properties of the orbs that we could use to bypass anti-accio spells or hiding charms?”

Pansy glares at her jar of broken soul orb pieces. “They’re made from materials that can be found in other items.” She looks at Draco, lowering her voice. “Your parents might have information about how the original orbs were created.”

“...They might,” Draco admits. “But if I ask my mother...the Ministry is going to know.”

“Then Blaise,” Felicity says drily. “Draco, how do you break them?”

Pansy snorts, while Draco sheepishly replies, “I crush them, while carefully channelling the magic back to where it should go.”

“It’s definitely not something the rest of us can do easily,” Pansy says. “I just don’t understand how Aegis was able to make so many of them.”

“Perhaps they’re unstable, then,” Felicity conjectures. “Afterall, they shouldn’t be crushed so easily…”

All three of them look at each other and grimace. An _unstable_ soul orb is even worse…

*

“You three, take a break for a moment,” comes Blaise’s voice.

Draco unburies himself from the books and papers. He blinks when he realises that all the Slytherins have gathered down in the Commons once more, standing behind Blaise.

Seeing them, he pushes down his frustration about the soul orbs.

“Are we having another meeting?” he asks Blaise, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yes, come here,” Blaise says.

Draco glances at Pansy, who has a glint in her eye. _Damn it_ , is he really the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on??

Blaise’s face is annoyingly calm...but Jamie’s face is mixed with nervousness and excitement. And Harry looks like he knows, his eyes urging Draco to come closer.

Draco stands and walks forward slowly. “I presume this is your secret project?”

“Yes!” Jamie says, vibrating with excitement.

“While not _everyone_ here likes you,” Blaise says, with a light smile that Draco cannot be entirely annoyed at, “We—and even Hogwarts—all agreed on this.” He produces a folded up item and hands it over to Draco. “We believe this is the perfect time.”

It’s a piece of clothing, sparks of magic tingling up Draco’s fingers the moment he touches it. Draco can _recognise_ the infused magic. Running fingers across the cloth, he can pick out the minute magical signatures of different Slytherins, each of them familiar and resonant with the bonds in his chest. And Blaise’s magic pulls it all together, interwoven with the slightest sense of _Hogwarts_.

Anticipation builds in Draco’s chest. He unravels the folds in one motion and finds himself holding a set of robes. The outer long cape component is a deep green-blue, almost black. Damask-like patterns catch in the firelight, like the night sky, like nebulae. The inner robe shimmers with different greens, like scales and gems.

And the crest on the front and on the back of robes...is the combined Malfoy crest with the _S_ of Slytherin, albeit with a dragon instead of snake.

Draco stares. His heart thunders in his chest. “I...this…” He turns wide eyes to Blaise, to Pansy, to Jamie, and Harry and Felicity and Aster and—and—

“Face it, Draco,” Pansy drawls with an exasperated smile. “You did this on yourself. You could have given up, made Blaise or me lead. But you didn’t.”

“We charmed it,” Jamie pipes up.

“I helped dye it,” Aster says.

“It’s infused with defensive properties,” Ella says.

As each Slytherin mentions another property of the robes, a huge sense of responsibility wells up in Draco.

 _His_ Slytherins have made this for him.

 _This_ is a tangible representation that not only has Hogwarts accepted him as the Head of Slytherin, but the Slytherins have too.

And if Draco accepts these robes, then he must wear the mantle of responsibilities as the Head of Slytherin.

He can’t rely on Flitwick. He can’t rely on McGonagall. More importantly, he can’t _wait_ for them. He has to be proactive. The students from the other Houses—oh, let's not be so complimentary, as some of their actions have been clearly aided by Aegis—have forced his Slytherins to hide in their dungeons, have denied their ability to be free denizens of Hogwarts.

Even as Draco thanks every person, his mind ticks. 

He knows what he has to do.

*

The next day breaks strong winds, icy blue skies chasing heavy grey clouds chasing blue.

Draco slowly puts on the robes his Slytherins have gifted him and calls a House-wide meeting to tell them what he wants to do.

Complicated expressions abound.

“It’s basically true already,” Nolan mutters darkly.

Blaise sighs. “Hogwarts won’t like it.”

“But Hogwarts is more than the castle. It's the inhabitants,” Draco counters.

Harry doesn’t like it. “Isn’t that too drastic? I was thinking—that you could build an alliance with the other houses. Luna and Hannah and Neville are all really good people. I already talked with Luna, and she’s game to try.”

“Hogwarts and its student and staff body is fundamentally broken, Harry. It’s been getting worse and worse.”

Harry’s brows tug together. “ _But…_ I could talk to the Prophet?”

“They think you’re the next Dark Lord.”

Harry grimaces. “I hate this.”

“Sometimes, the only way to fix something is to start anew.” Draco lifts his head, cold confidence emanating. “Sometimes, people don’t know how good they have it until it's gone. Let them have what they want until they get on their knees and beg.”

The younger Slytherins look at Draco with wide eyes.

“But, Mr Malfoy…” Michelle says tentatively. “What would happen to us?”

“We can handle it,” Draco says.

Pansy nods in agreement. “If we go forward, rest assured that you won’t be any less safe than you are now.”

“And we will sort out schooling issues,” Felicity adds. “It is a straightforward process to apply for the International Tests.”

Resignation, relaxation, and resolution build in the eyes of the Slytherins.

*

In the Great Hall that morning, Professor McGonagall sits with the slightest slump in her chair, resisting the urge to rub her eyes tiredly.

“Here,” Flitwick whispers, passing her a cup. It turns out to be a coffee mixed with a shot of Pepper Up.

“Thank you,” McGonagall says gratefully.

“ _Tch_ , are the Slytherins going to stop eating too?” Professor Coates scoffs.

Professor Garren sighs heavily. “It is Mr Malfoy. His rebellious spirit compels the others…”

McGonagall’s lips twitch in annoyance. These two professors worrying about _that_ instead of the Wizengamot wand pointed at Hogwarts…! She spent the entirety of yesterday arguing with the Hogwarts Board, and she’ll be spending the rest of the week doing the same thing.

Below, the students of the other Houses eat cheerfully, vindictively in some cases. No owls will be allowed into the Great Hall this morning, as McGonagall needs to check all the mail for soul orbs first.

The sound of footsteps draws McGonagall’s eyes to the Hall entrance. Her eyes narrow upon seeing Draco Malfoy in non-regulation robes. The Slytherins file in two ranks around the Slytherin table, but none of them sit down.

The small contingent of Eighth Years continue to the front stage.

A foreboding fills McGonagall’s heart. She rises to her feet. “Mr Malfoy, Ms Parkinson, Mr Zabini, Mr Potter…”

Draco Malfoy gives her an empty look. He jumps, lightly landing on the stage. The moment his feet touch the wood, the four house banners appear, unrolling across the front wall—the ones that should only appear at the end of the year at the conclusion of the House cup.

Gryffindor. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw.

And Slytherin.

Together, the four make a harmonious colour scheme. But the reality is not so.

Draco Malfoy turns around to face the Hall in a swirl of glittery robes. “I, Draco Lucius Narcissa Malfoy, Head of Slytherin, hereby declare that Slytherin House will stand on its own, and its prior allyship with Houses of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff are now dissolved.”

McGonagall’s heart freezes. “No...Mr Malfoy, what have you done?” she whispers.

Someone starts to laugh. “ _Great! Finally!_ ”

Draco Malfoy looks up at the beautiful ceiling of the Great Hall. “I’m sorry, Hogwarts, but we are already standing apart from the other houses under your wing.”

There’s a breaking sensation that Minerva McGonagall can feel. She turns her head to the front wall, knowing that she can’t stop what will happen next.

The Slytherin banner falls, and the Hall bursts into uproar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHA You cannot believe HOW LONG I’ve been waiting for this scene!!!
> 
> (Some of you commenters guessed something like this! Very good! 😘😘😘)
> 
> The **original** summary of Under Dragon Wings is this, but I changed it because it was too spoilery:
>
>> Draco has a hundred and one problems, and turning into a dragon is the least of it. Harry tries to help by resorting himself into Slytherin, but the post-war engine crunches on, until Draco does something never done before: he breaks Slytherin House from Hogwarts.
>> 
>> And then Hogwarts starts breaking down. 
> 
> On that note, here’s another summary that I had for Under Dragon Wings (then titled **Come Not Between The Dragon and His** ):
>
>> Dragons have clan, have kin. Draco is no different. He has the _duty_ to look after his Slytherins, a beat driven into his blood.
>> 
>> Then, Harry Potter resorts into his house and everything.
>> 
>> goes.
>> 
>> up.
>> 
>> in.
>> 
>> _flames_.
> 
> All these summaries have different Energy.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> *after Blaise gives Draco the robes*  
>  **Jamie** : HAHA finally, I don't have to keep a secret from Mr Malfoy!  
>  **Nolan** : Put them on, put them on!!  
>  **Pansy** : Yeah Draco, give us a catwalk~  
>  **Harry** : *is conflicted whether he wants Draco to put them on because what if Draco looks way too good in them????*
> 
>   
> 
> 
> **Other people** : Remove Slytherin From Hogwarts!  
>  **Draco** : *gives them a FACESLAP*  
>  **Other people** : [[[[[[this content is spoilered and so cannot be revealed]]]]]
> 
> *meanwhile, in an alternate universe*  
>  In the morning before breakfast, Draco puts on the new robes.  
>  **Harry** : (≧∀≦) My boyfriend is so cool! So awesome!!  
>  **Nolan** : MY Mr Malfoy is so powerful! So amazing!  
>  **Harry** : ... _ **My**_ boyfriend sleeps with me.  
>  **Nolan** : QAQ *runs to Draco*  
>  **Draco** : *sighs in exasperation and gives Nolan a head pat*  
>  **Nolan** : 😇  
>  **Harry** : ........*thinks: whatever, I’ll get more headpats from Draco tonight!*


	29. Chapter 29

_The Slytherin banner falls, and the Hall bursts into uproar._

Draco summons the banner before it can touch the ground. It shrinks as it floats over, and he transfigures a crossbar and pole for it to suspend from.

He turns to address Headmistress McGonagall. “By the grace of the Head of Hogwarts, we will require time to move Slytherin from the rest of Hogwarts.”

McGonagall is half furious, half stunned. “I do not agree! Mr Malfoy, put that _back_.”

“I won’t,” Draco says. He descends from the stage and nods his head for Blaise to lead them all out.

“You’ll all _fail_ if you don’t come to class!” Coates shouts.

“Head of Slytherin? Keep dreaming,” Garren scoffs.

Granger rushes pass all the other Slytherins and grabs Harry. “ _No_ , Harry! Where do you think you’re going?”

Harry meets Draco’s eyes, and Draco smoothly stands next to him, wrapping a possessive arm around Harry’s shoulder and pulling him closer, before dropping his arm. “He’s coming back to Slytherin with me.”

Granger glances up at the Slytherin banner and scoffs. “Very _funny_ , Malfoy. You always were good at pranks.”

Draco smiles drily, so very amused. “You don’t believe it.”

Granger raises one eyebrow. “The Houses were set up by the _Founders_. Are you so self-conceited as to compare yourself with Salazar Slytherin? At _best_ , this could have only been done by Professors McGonagall and Garren.”

“Garren is not the Head of Slytherin, remember?” Harry says, frowning.

Granger curls her lips. “It’s not that simple, Harry. If I walked around saying that I was the Head of Gryffindor, that doesn’t make it _true_.”

Draco continues to smile. “Perhaps we should take this outside the Hall, Granger.”

“There’s _nothing_ we need to say in private. Did you know he was going to do this, Harry?”

Harry nods shortly.

“Fear not, Granger. Dear Harry tried to convince me otherwise.” Draco smirks. “And you said we’re all so isolated. That I’m locking up the first and second years inside the Slytherin Dungeons. Have you ever thought that might have been done to avoid their _deaths_? I surely hope you’ve finished your research of soul orbs—which, might I remind you— _was used on Harry by a group of Gryffindors_.”

Granger blanches. “...This isn’t the right way to do it. There _is definitely_ a better way. Harry, come on...”

“Then go right ahead,” Draco says dismissively. “ _I’m_ not waiting for one of my Slytherins to die first.”

Draco turns to Harry. “I understand your loyalties are conflicted. It goes without saying...that you _can_ stay with your Gryffindor friends...But...” Draco reaches out and takes Harry’s hand. “I want you to stay with me.”

Harry’s head tilts down for a moment, his gaze on their touching hands. Draco caresses Harry’s hand with his thumb in encouragement.

Harry holds Draco’s hand back for a moment. He straightens, his gaze becoming firm. “Hermione, right now, I’m a Slytherin. I _do_ have my own ideas about how to _make things better_ as you said, but I’ll do it from within Slytherin. So I’ll be going with them.”

Granger’s face falls, just as Weasley catches up to them.

“Harry, Harry...you didn’t just—why are you holding Malfoy’s hand?”

Draco lets go of Harry’s hand, smiling coldly at Granger and Weasley. “Slytherin is separated,” he confirms. “The Wizengamot wishes to remove Slytherin from Hogwarts. Have you not calculated who is for and who is against such a manoeuvre in the assembly? This was going to happen. I simply made it happen on _our_ terms.”

Granger has no words to contradict Draco’s statement.

“Let’s go.” Draco pulls Harry along with the last of the Slytherins. In the Slytherin Commons, breakfast awaits them. 

Harry looks over his shoulder. “I’ll be alright, and I hope you’ll help me,” he tells Granger and Weasley.

With that, he falls back into step with Draco. The bond in Draco’s chest hums.

There is still a line of resignation and conflicted loyalties on Harry’s face. But...

 _He chose me_.

It’s not just Harry. Some of his Slytherins have family—and old friends—in the other Houses too. But the situation has become impossible to ignore. The Wizengamot _will_ vote Slytherin out.

In Draco’s opinion, it is much better for Slytherin House to make the first claim of independence. And he has done exactly that.

*

Left behind in the Great Hall, Minerva McGonagall’s face darkens.

 _“This is so great, we don’t even need to wait for the Wizengamot bill!_ ”

“ _Since the Slytherins want to leave, why should we stop them? Heh.”_

_“Good riddance!”_

_“Ohh, does this mean we’ll be able to take over the dungeons…”_

_“The Slytherin Banner was an eyesore anyway!_ ”

McGonagall taps a _sonorus_ against her throat. “ **How could you say such things for another House of Hogwarts?** ”

The strict tone shuts up the students, but many eyes are still defiant, mocking.

“Do _not_ spread what has happened. This matter is extremely unclear. The Professors and I will investigate whether the Slytherin banner falling has any implications on the Houses, or whether Hogwarts simply needs a maintenance check. _Understood?_ ”

Some dutiful heads nod. McGonagall’s nostrils flare in frustration at the disobedient students, but what can she do? She can’t make them all swear a Wizard’s oath.

“All Head of Houses, your morning classes will be cancelled. For those students who would have otherwise had a class with Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Garren, and Hooch—Charms, Herbology, Potions, or Flying Classes, this morning session is a free study period. Enjoy your breakfast.”

McGonagall ends the _sonorus_ spell and downs the coffee that Flitwick gave her only a few minutes ago, while noise and chatter in the Great Hall rise up once more.

McGonagall has a growing headache, and she’s fairly sure this ‘headache’ isn’t just her.

*

This Tuesday morning is unlike other Tuesday mornings.

The Slytherin Banner now hangs on the wall next to the Slytherin Dungeon’s entrance. There is no point hiding, everyone knows their location.

In Slytherin, the first day of internal classes starts with group study sessions as Draco, Pansy and Blaise plan out the new timetables for everyone in Slytherin. Students skim through the school curriculum and the content required for end-of-year examinations, taking the opportunity to revise, read ahead, or work on assignments that Draco intends to have marked, one way or another. The students in charge of teaching gather old class notes and other papers previously provided by Professor Flitwick.

Dennis Creevey sits in class, barely listening to the Professor up front. He wants to leave, he wants to find Harry and get him out of Slytherin. Harry’s a good guy! Dennis didn’t mean to hurt him, it wasn’t his fault...but McGonagall and Flitwick gave him detention anyway.

Ben Taylor sits like a king in Gryffindor. Most of the upper years are out elsewhere—Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, who cares; Neville Longbottom, he’s always at the greenhouses anyway; and Ginny Weasley and Parvati Patil spend way too much time in Ravenclaw.

“Didn’t you see Harry Potter standing next to Malfoy?” Taylor jeers at some Harry Potter supporters. “He’s clearly in on it! Wake up! He’s not a Gryffindor anymore! He’s been clearly hiding a slimy snake inside...no one with _Voldemort_ in his brain can stay sane!...Hey, you! Don’t you have a sister or brother in Slytherin? We need to keep an eye on you…”

Laurel Gardiner and her friends in Hufflepuff take their ‘study session’ time as a break, heading over to the Slytherin Corridor in case anyone dares to come out. Some other Hufflepuffs keep their head down, hurrying to the Hogwarts Library instead.

Meanwhile, in the Library, Hermione flips through the pages of _Hogwarts, A History_ , cover to cover. There is absolutely no precedent recorded as to what Malfoy purported to do. _Yet somehow, Malfoy triggered the appearance of the banners…_

In the now quiet Great Hall, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Garren, Sprout and Hooch gather on the front stage, examining the three remaining banners.

“These are clearly simply ornamental,” Garren says.

“Then are you saying that the Slytherin banner fell due to _sabotage?”_ McGonagall responds coldly. “Then this is _still_ a problem.”

Garren swallows his anger and contributes to the magical sensing of the banners and the empty space where Slytherin’s banner should lie.

McGonagall tries and tries, but...the answer does not seem to change.

*

In the late afternoon, a Ravenclaw waits outside the Slytherin Common Room. Thankfully, Gardiner and her cronies are in class. After Felicity notifies him, Draco goes out to see who it is.

It’s Hyacinth Nguyen, older sister to Slytherin second year Michelle Nguyen.

“Malfoy,” Nguyen says, “Flitwick asked me to give you these for now. He said he’ll come to talk to you later.”

“I’ll give him my deepest thanks,” Draco says, accepting the papers.

Nguyen doesn’t leave immediately, however. “Where’s Michelle?”

“Working on something with Jamie,” Draco says. “Aster has them and the other second years in the potions laboratory.”

Nguyen frowns heavily. “She should have been a Ravenclaw. If _Potter_ was able to resort, then so should she!”

“But _is_ she more Ravenclaw than Slytherin? Does she _want_ to be in Ravenclaw?” Draco says coolly.

Nguyen gives him a sharp look. “Don’t be stupid. Oh, wait, _you already were and messed up Hogwarts!_ ”

“And I suppose you were a loud defender of your sister against the other Ravenclaws.”

Nguyen’s jaw tightens. “You should know well that most Ravenclaws would not _physically_ attack someone. Either you let my sister _out_ , or you put Slytherin _back_.”

Draco’s gaze turns cold, as a sense of fierce _protectiveness_ pulses down his bond to Michelle. “Why should I put Slytherin back? _You should well know_ that many Ravenclaws don’t _want_ us here anyway. Shouldn’t we let the _consequences_ of this play out? And you Ravenclaws _know_ she was a Slytherin. She would not be safe. Unless you can promise me otherwise.”

“I—”

“Not even _Potter_ could face a surprise attack of those damned soul orbs. Leave, your sister is not here.”

“You!”

“I dare,” Draco growls. With a wave of his hand, the Slytherin entrance opens.

“With _you_ here, it’s no _wonder_ it’s come to this!” Nguyen shouts after him.

Just as the entrance is about to close, Draco looks over his shoulder and says, “If you care so much about your sister, why don’t you come to Slytherin and support her?”

Hyacinth Nguyen is left standing outside, speechless.

*

_“My nephew sent my brother a message…”_

_“Draco Malfoy did **what?** ”_

*

Narcissa Malfoy is sitting in the Malfoy winter gardens when a house-elf pops up and notifies her of a visitor. She returns unhurried to her drawing room to find the old Madam Greengrass, the grandmother of Astoria and Daphne Greengrass.

“Madam Greengrass, good afternoon. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Narcissa Malfoy says, calling for a light tea service. “Have you thought about the potential engagement between my son and darling Astoria?”

Madam Greengrass narrows her eyes. “Do you _truly_ not know?”

Narcissa does not let any emotion cross her face aside from a light interest. “I do not. I have spent the entire day in the Gardens.”

Madam Greengrass’s lips curl into a sneer. “It’s about your _darling son_ , Draco Malfoy,” she spits out.

Narcissa’s heart freezes.

“He _dared_ to announce himself as the Head of Slytherin! He dared to act in the stead of Salazar Slytherin! Even Merlin, the great Slytherin, would not dare to act in Salazar Slytherin’s place! You! You and that damned Lucius brat! Is that how you raise children? I will not have Draco Malfoy on _my_ family tree!”

With effort, there is no tremble in Narcissa’s voice as she replies, “Head of Slytherin? Surely it’s simply Draco’s jest.”

Madam Greengrass snorts. “ _Well_ , your son posed himself as the Head of Slytherin, and announced that Slytherin was now separated from Hogwarts! A thousand years of tradition, _broken by your son!_ How dare he? Who gave him the right??!” She stands up in a huff. “You better speak to your son or else…!”

Narcissa also rises to her feet. “Madam Greengrass…”

“I’ll see myself out!” She walks angrily to the floo and quickly leaves.

Narcissa is left standing alone in the drawing room.

_Draco **did what?** Why didn’t he tell me...I told him to keep his head down and study!_

Anger and fear of Draco’s safety mix in Narcissa Malfoy’s heart as she quickly strides to her study to write her son a letter.

*

Before dinner, Professor Flitwick awaits outside the Slytherin Dungeons.

Draco is busy brewing Wolfsbane, so it is Felicity Shafiq who goes out to greet him.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Professor Flitwick shakes his head. “If you can tell the rest of your House mates... I do not know how long this matter will go on for. However, I will be able to teach one class every afternoon, solely for the Slytherins. It’ll be a bit long, one class per year level, but that is the best I can fit into my schedule. To the best of my abilities, I will reduce any disruptions to your learning.”

Felicity Shafiq smiles. “Thank you, we’re very grateful for your help. We will trouble you to come down to the Slytherin Dungeons to pick up the students.”

“I can teach in one of the classrooms down here,” Flitwick says. “I’ll start tomorrow with the OWLs level class.” He leaves her with some more class notes and a, _have a good evening_.

*

At dinner time, the delayed owls finally deliver their letters and goods after McGonagall painstakingly checked for soul orbs. She now has a box of them, including names of those who were meant to be their recipients.

> _Dear XXXX,_
> 
> _We are a group of witches and wizards dedicated to improving the magical ecosystem of Britain. Your commitment to the light has come to our attention, and thus we would like to support your endeavour._
> 
> _Enclosed is a special device that is able to extract out dark magic. We understand that various dark agents have infiltrated what should be the great school of Hogwarts…_
> 
> _Further details on usage are on the next page..._

**Lies**. Whoever is sending them is using _her students_ as tools for their agenda.

Meanwhile, Draco’s letter doesn’t arrive by owl. Instead, his mother’s personal house-elf appears in front of him with a strict expression on her face, interrupting his dinner.

“Your mother is sending you this,” the house-elf says sourly. “Call me when you have a response.”

Draco accepts the letter, pushing aside his half-eaten food.

“You’re in _trouble,_ ” Pansy teases.

Draco rolls his eyes and opens the letter.

> _...What were you thinking?..._
> 
> _...Why did you not consult me?..._
> 
> _...I fear that the Ministry will retaliate…_
> 
> _...Your planned engagement with Astoria Greengrass has thoroughly fallen through…_
> 
> _**Tell your mother, what truly occurred?** _

Draco silently hands the letter to Pansy to read.

“The news spread fast, and it wasn’t even me,” Pansy says. “What are you planning to tell your mum?”

“...The truth, of course.”

“Can I?” Harry says. After he reads it, his expression becomes worried. “She’s right, you know. What about the Ministry? Once they find out…”

“They’ll be hypocrites!” Nolan protests. “They want to remove Slytherin anyway! We’re doing them a favour, they owe us!”

Draco pats Nolan on the head. “That’s right, they owe us.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “You... _Malfoy_ ,” he says in an aggrieved tone.

“Oh, come now, Potter,” Draco retorts, “Hasn’t the Dark Lord attempted to kill you every year? You were hardly worried about that for the most part.”

“That’s different!”

“Oh, yes, _sure_ , extremely different.”

Harry jabs Draco in the side.

Draco glares back. “How dare you do that to your Head of House!”

“Then let me be the Head of House!”

“Are you two planning to fight in bed later?” Pansy says in a much too interested tone. “If you marry, you can both share the title.”

Harry’s cheeks immediately flush red. “Wasn’t Draco supposed to be engaged with Astoria…”

“No, that’s simply my mother planning things without my knowledge!” Draco quickly clarifies. “I have no intention of marrying her, nor any of the Greengrasses.”

“Okay…”

Draco pokes Harry back. “Why the sad face? You need to be alert and protect me from the Ministry,” he jokes.

Harry’s face slowly brightens. “Yes, I need to protect you.” He gives Draco a meaningful look.

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to continue to incur life debts with you?”

Nolan narrows his eyes. “Mr Malfoy doesn’t need _your_ protection!”

Harry snickers at Nolan. “Oh, Nolan, you don’t know our long history together…”

Nolan scoffs. “Ancient history! What’s important is _right now_ …”

Draco returns to his dinner, his gaze indulgent upon the once-again squabbling Harry and Nolan. Some things just don’t change.

All his Slytherins are in the Commons, eating dinner together. It almost feels like the carefree Winter Break again: no thinly veiled whispers, not sharp narrowed gazes.

In fact, Draco had not expected how much worrying about the Slytherins during class before had impacted him, how he keeps reflexively checking the bonds in his chest. He doesn’t have to do that as much anymore.

For now, the Slytherins are in high spirits, filled with determination to study and overwhelm the other houses.

But...this is only the first day.

Draco can feel the cracks appearing in Hogwarts’ magic. It’s most noticeable in the common areas of Hogwarts; in the Slytherin Dungeon, Slytherin’s magic dominates.

He can also feel how Hogwarts is trying to hold everything together. But he knows...that the inevitable will happen.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know right, a whole chapter dedicated to the events of just one day??? XD
> 
> **Hermione** : The Houses were set up by the Founders. Are you so self-conceited as to compare yourself with Salazar Slytherin?? Are you better than Merlin??  
>  **Draco** : Yes.  
>  **Hermione** : ...................................  
>  **Nolan** : *furiously nods his head* Mr Malfoy, COOL!!! Sugoi!! 666666!!  
>  **Sequoia** : ...Are you not embarrassed about your behaviour, Nolan?  
>  **Nolan** : Pftt, I know what I need to do to get head pats from Draco!  
>  **Nolan** : *gets a head pat from an amused Draco* 😝😝
> 
> **Draco** : *holds Harry's hand* I want you to stay with me.  
>  **Harry** : *imagination explodes with scenes of Draco proposing marriage to him* !!! (⁄ ⁄•⁄0⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ 
> 
> **Some other purebloods** : How dare Draco Malfoy do that! Who gave him the right?!  
>  **Narcissa Malfoy** : Draco did * **WHAT** *? Ohhh boy, he's in trouble!!!  
>  **Draco** , who's not afraid of Greyback, nor of the Ministry, nor of Aegis: oh f*ck
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*  
> Slytherin doesn't break from Hogwarts because everyone has bonded over being fed all the excessive PDA from Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. It somehow even intensified after Draco received the Head of Slytherin robes. Harry has attempted to make fake chocolate frog cards of Draco to "kindly" give out to everyone.
> 
>  **Hermione** : ... my sweet child Harry...stolen by this bastard Malfoy. Harry, what does he have that we don't?  
>  **Harry** : *looks at Draco's front waist area* *smirks* ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)✧  
>  **Draco** : *helpfully pats Harry's arse*  
>  **Hermione** : *tearfully* Don't! My eyes are PG rated!
> 
> In fact, everyone is thinking of how to make black floating censor bars that will automatically appear every time the two of them french kiss in public...
> 
> Now, today's rec is for my favourite drarry fest of all time, [**Draco Tops Harry**](https://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com)!!! (also on [tumblr](https://dracotops-harry.tumblr.com)). A lot of the works can be found on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Dracotops_Harry) filled with Draco topping Harry goodness. I also encourage you to write for the [Draco Tops Harry 2021 Fest](https://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/377432.html) if you're interested! There are so many great prompts o(≧∀≦)o


	30. Chapter 30

Early next morning, Hyacinth Nguyen is once again outside the Slytherin Dungeons.

Draco goes out to meet her.

Nguyen lifts her chin. “I’ve spoken with Professor Flitwick. For the time being, I will stay in Slytherin with my sister. I’m one of the top students in Transfiguration, I can help teach it.”

“For your sister’s sake...I hope you retain propriety.” Draco stands aside and allows her to enter. “I’ll have the house-elves deliver your items.” He takes out one of his badges and sends an alert to Michelle Nguyen.

Once Hyacinth Nguyen passes the Slytherin entry foyer and into the Slytherin Commons proper, her eyes widen.

“ _How_? Why is it so big?” Her eyes move from the mezzanine library, to the tables already half-filled with breakfast for those Slytherins up a little earlier.

Draco’s lips curl up in pride.

Hardly a minute later, Michelle comes dashing down the staircase. “Hya? What are you doing here?” She glances at Draco and slows down to a more refined speed.

“I’m staying with you, kid,” Nguyen says, rubbing Michelle’s hair.

Michelle pushes her hand back. “But you’re a Ravenclaw…”

“She is now an indefinite visitor to Slytherin,” Draco says. “Michelle, go tell Blaise to have the house-elves set up a living space for your sister. It will be best if she sleeps in your dormitory. Show her around. Aster will give her a badge too.”

Michelle nods seriously. “Yes, Mr Malfoy!”

The two sisters draw closer, talking to each other. Draco leaves them be, returning to his breakfast.

“ _You call him **Mr**?”_

_“Well, yes...Hya! It’s been so long, why didn’t you talk to me more…”_

_“...I’m sorry…”_

*

During breakfast, a house-elf delivers a note to Draco: a summons from Professor McGonagall.

“I’ll go with him,” Harry volunteers.

“Put on your House robes,” Pansy says.

Therefore, after breakfast, Draco in his Slytherin House robes and one acting-bodyguard Harry ascend the stairs to the Headmistress’ Office.

The moment Draco enters her office, he’s aware of _all_ the eyes of the past Heads of Hogwarts. Portrait Dumbledore’s eyes have no sparkle, to Draco’s great satisfaction.

Portrait Severus, however...His eyes are dark. _What have you done?_ he seems to say. When he sees Draco’s robes, his jaw tightens, lips tugging into a slight sneer. Draco returns his look blandly, not reacting to Portrait Severus’s narrowing eyes. The real Severus would have been much more scathing.

McGonagall drinks something that smells like extra concentrated coffee. “Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter,” she says heavily. “Take a seat.”

“Good morning, Professor,” Harry says.

“Let us skip formalities,” Draco says. “I assume you know after your investigation yesterday.”

Rather than responding immediately, McGonagall lays down the papers in front of Draco and Harry.

**DRACO MALFOY DECLARES HIMSELF HEAD OF SLYTHERIN**

**SLYTHERINS DENOUNCE HOGWARTS!**

Harry grabs the paper, frowning. “Well, didn’t they denounce us first?”

McGonagall’s back is stiff, jaw tight. “I understand you and the Slytherins are undergoing rough times. But you cannot simply take Slytherin _out_. Slytherin is an integral part of Hogwarts!”

“Hogwarts is more than just its Houses,” Draco says. “It’s more than its Founders. It’s the Professors. It’s the students, the house-elves, all the other staff, the ghosts, the portraits, the statues, the building itself. Even without my formal withdrawal of Slytherin, we have already been rejected.”

In comparison to the two previous Heads of Hogwarts, Draco respects McGonagall more. The antagonistic tensions between the Houses have been building for years. In fact, McGonagall is unlucky in being at the tail end of it. But at the same time, she could not stop those rising tensions.

“You mean the soul orbs?” McGonagall levitates a letter for the anonymous sender over. “This is _outside agents_ disrupting Hogwarts.”

Draco barely glances at the letter. “It’s not simply the students. Some of the professors have also neglected their duties.”

“I will speak to them again.”

“And we both know...that the Wizengamot bill will pass.”

“Why are you so certain, Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall says bitterly. “For the last week, I and many others have been pushing for it to be delayed and discussed. But your actions have completely destroyed our case!”

Draco blinks calmly. “And were you going to _win_? In _this_ climate?”

McGonagall’s gaze becomes sharp. “Tell me, Mr Malfoy, who has the ultimate decision to separate Slytherin from Hogwarts? The Headmistress, the Head of Houses, and Hogwarts itself. As long as we do not implement the Wizengamot bill ourselves, the actions of the Ministry will have no true effect.”

“But they can force us out of the school, either by request or by expulsion,” Draco counters. “They _want_ Slytherin gone. So let them _choke_ on it!”

“Mr Malfoy!”

Draco smooths his robes, Slytherin crest clear. “Right now, I believe that my actions are optimal at ensuring the safety of the Slytherins. Is there anything else you wish to discuss? Otherwise, I must return to matters of Slytherin House.”

“And what do you think about this, Mr Potter?”

Harry startles. “Ah, well, I… I also think Draco is right. You know that the younger students couldn’t attend some of the classes at all. And I think...if people _chose_ to have Slytherin to return, then the unity we could then build could be much stronger.”

McGonagall rubs her temples in defeat. “Your schooling will still continue, of course. Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Hagrid have agreed to teach separate lessons for you, and Professor Vector is willing to provide some of her class notes.”

Draco inclines his head. “I’ll contact them to organise these extra classes.”

“As for the other subjects, I can teach the Slytherins Transfiguration. Professor Coates has also suggested a muggle field trip to allow students to mingle and become acquainted with each other in a different setting.”

Harry straightens in his seat. “Is it co-organised with Hermione?”

McGonagall inclines her head. “Yes, the two of them discussed it.”

Draco’s lips curl up in mocking. “I would not trust Professor Coates to protect the students from Aegis.”

“In _muggle_ areas, Mr Malfoy?”

“Aegis are muggle like,” Draco says coolly. “Those soul orbs contain muggle components.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrow. “I see. Then I will discuss safety issues further with Professor Coates.”

Draco glances at Harry, and tells McGonagall, “If it were only led by Granger, then I would accept that over Professor Coates’ presence. Under Coates’ watch, another student attacked Sequoia Hawks with a soul orb, while Coates preferred to deduct points rather than help.”

McGonagall’s expression becomes heavier. She checks the time and stands up. “We have more to discuss, but I will call you at a later date.” Her lips twist into a wry expression. “Unfortunately, the Hogwarts Board of Governors is meeting in a few minutes on the topic of Slytherin’s separation.”

Draco and Harry both stand.

“We will help you,” Harry says earnestly. “But the other Houses have to help too.”

McGonagall inclines her head. “Have a good day.”

Draco stands up and gives a shallow bow. “Good day, Headmistress.”

“See you later,” Harry says.

The two of them exit, and not long after, Draco can hear the sound of the floo as McGonagall leaves for the Board meeting.

As they head down the stairs, Harry’s lips pull into an unhappy frown.

“The Wizengamot sucks! I can’t think of one single occasion where they did something good…”

“Not planning to become a future Wizengamot member and make changes?” Draco drawls.

Harry makes a face. “Sounds disgusting.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind in the future. It wouldn’t be too hard to campaign for you.”

“No, Draco, _no_.” Harry prods Draco in the chest. “Remember my careers list? There was absolutely no ‘Wizengamot member’ on the list!”

Draco snickers. “What if _I_ become a Wizengamot member?”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “If you become a stupid mean then, then I’ll call in your life debt.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “So drastic, Potter.”

“ _Someone_ ’s gotta look out for you.”

A warm feeling spreads across Draco’s chest. But his mouth says, “Didn’t you forget where you placed your homework this morning? _I’m_ the one looking after _you_.” Draco laughs out loud at Harry’s indignant expression.

*

In the late afternoon, a silvery otter passes through the Slytherin walls and stops in front of Harry, who is putting on his warm overcloak (and hat and scarf and gloves, _thanks_ , Draco).

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice emerges from the otter patronus, “Are you really going to stay inside Slytherin the entire time? Please reply, we haven’t seen you in so long.”

Of course, since the message is delivered in public, many of the other Slytherins hear.

“What a coincidence,” someone mutters.

“Don’t reply by the same method,” Draco immediately warns.

“I know, I know. Hey, give me some of your parchment.”

Harry grins when Draco hands it over. He scribbles a quick note to Hermione and summons a house-elf to deliver it.

Draco checks over the bundled-up Slytherins before opening the entrance for them.

“Don’t worry Draco, we’ll be back safe,” Harry says.

“Don’t jinx it, Potter!” Nolan scowls.

In fact, all the Slytherins who are taking Care Of Magical Creatures are heading out. Hagrid has agreed to teach and supervise everyone together in the late afternoon.

The small clusters of other students they encounter on their way to Hagrid’s Hut avoid the large group of Slytherins.

“HELLO, HELLO!!” Hagrid greets them.

“Hagrid,” Harry says warmly. “Thanks for having us.”

Hagrid smiles broadly, wrapping Harry in a hug. “Of course! Today, we have a full schedule! Good afternoon, good afternoon, everyone!”

The different year levels are currently studying different creatures. Hagrid explains some basic things to the upper years first before moving onto the younger years who he personally supervises.

The sound of the clop-clop-clop of hooves makes Harry look up from the dangerous beast he’s supposed to be interacting with. His eyes widen.

It’s the thestrals! A group of adult thestrals emerge from the Forest. In a wave, everyone notices them.

“ _Oh why are the thestrals here…do they want to play?_ ” someone wonders.

Harry takes a few steps towards them, looking towards the thestral leader. “Um, if you’re looking for Draco, he’s not here…”

The thestral leader moves over to him. She nudges him lightly, while the other spread out, placing themselves between the Slytherins and the school.

Harry’s chest slowly tightens. Are they...here to protect them?

“Neigh!” the thestral leader neighs.

Harry startles. He laughs at himself for thinking that she could read his mind.

“ _Oh, not playing then,_ ” a Slytherin says glumly.

Hagrid beams. “Everyone, study hard. You can help feed them later.”

Harry promptly heads back to the dangerous beast enclosure with the other seventh years. He can’t help but sneak a look at the thestrals though. _Heheh, Draco would be guttered to find out that he missed this!_

*

When Draco hears about what the thestrals did, he raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that expectant expression?” he says. “I can go see the thestrals whenever I want.” He smiles a fake soft smile. “If you missed them, Harry, just tell me and I’ll accompany you.”

Nolan jumps in. “If you go, I’ll go too!”

“In any case, we’ll see them in a few days,” Draco adds.

Harry blinks.

“The _moon_ , Harry?”

“Oh!”

“Do you ever look at a calendar, Mr Potter?” Nolan says pompously.

Harry rolls up his proverbial sleeves. He smiles winningly. “Thank you for reminding me how cute Nolan looks once a month…”

***

 _Late evening in Kingsley’s office_.

Minerva McGonagall gives the Aurors in the office an imperious look that makes them all remember the innate fear of a teacher about to reprimand them.

“You will _not_ arrest Draco Malfoy. Kingsley, you better stop them,” she says sternly.

The Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt rubs his forehead tiredly. “No, arresting him won’t help.”

“And you think his actions do _not_ break the terms of his parole?” Auror Hitchly scoffs. “Headmistress McGonagal, you sure do favour Draco Malfoy, willing to obstruct the law for him!”

“What Mr Malfoy did is not illegal,” McGongall retorts. “If the Ministry can prove that he separated Slytherin from Hogwarts, then so what? Hogwarts is not under the purview of the Ministry! And as the Headmistress, I _forbid you_ from entering Hogwarts ground!”

Hitchly snorts and crosses his arms.

***

The rest of the week proceeds smoothly as no apparent changes to the castle occurs.

Many of the students start to become dubious about what Draco Malfoy purported to do.

“ _So...the Slytherins just want to skip class?_ ”

“ _Well, good for us! It’s great not having to see their slimy faces!_ ”

“ _Hehehe, did you see **her** sneak out every day to the Hospital Wing...you know, the full moon is coming up…”_

_“Shh!! Or the professor will hear us...wait till he goes…”_

By the weekend, Hermione is at wit’s end. Unlike those students, she’s absolutely sure that Malfoy did _something_ , But her detection spells on Hogwarts do not come up with anything conclusive. Worse of all, this could be because she has no point of reference for what Hogwarts should be like _before_ Malfoy’s announcement.

At least, on the weekend, she’ll be able to see Harry again. Harry sent her and Ron a message to meet in one of the classrooms near the Slytherin dungeons. To her surprise though, when she heads out with Ron, Ginny and Neville are also heading out in the same direction. 

“Oh? We’re going to meet Harry too,” Neville says.

Ginny’s eyes flash a mischievous light. “Harry told me he has some grandmaster plan to make things better.”

 _Oh_. Harry _had_ mentioned that he had some ideas, but not that he had invited others to come too…

As they approach the Slytherin floor, even more students join them.

First, there’s Luna. Ginny goes up and kisses Luna on the cheek, and the two hold hands.

(Ginny throws a triumphant look at Ron, but when Ron turns to Hermione, he finds that Hemione is entirely occupied by her thoughts.)

Then, there’s Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff, along with two young girls, both carrying their bookbags. 

Neville greets Hannah first, and after their inquistory looks, Hannah says, “Yes, Harry talked to me too. And this is Maira….she has an older brother who’s in Slytherin. I think, for now, it would be best if she moved out of the House…”

A dark-haired girl glumly nods her head.

“And I’m Kim, Maira’s best friend! If she’s going to Slytherin, then I’m going too!” the second girl says, grabbing Maira’s hand.

 _Safer?_ Hermione wonders.

To Hermione’s surprise, rather than Malfoy, _Blaise Zabini_ is waiting for them with Harry.

Zabini smiles warmly at everyone. “Thank you for coming. Who are these two little ones?”

“Oh, Blaise,” Hannah returns the smile. “This is Maira and Kim. If you can let them stay in Slytherin for the time being…”

Zabini goes over and crouches down. “Maira Yang, you must be Shen’s little sister,” he says.

“And I’m Maira’s best friend!” Kim says firmly.

“Very good, I’m glad Maira has a good friend. Harry, why don’t you let everyone in to relax, I’ll settle Maira and Kim in first.” He takes out a small round badge, and not long after, the Slytherin entrance opens and a dark-haired teenager comes running out.

“Maira! Why are you here?!!” Shen Li hugs his sister anxiously. “They shouldn’t know that we’re related, our surnames are different…”

Maira shakes her head. What she says is too quiet for Hermione to hear. The two girls, Zabini and Li head into the Slytherin Dungeons.

Meanwhile, Harry ushers everyone else into the classroom. The classroom has been transformed into something more like a lounge, with sofas and coffee table tables, and enough lightning that it doesn’t feel like they’re in the dungeon.

“Phew, it’s been a hectic week!” Harry says, hugging Hermione with one arm. “How have you been?” he says to her and Ron.

“Pretty same-old,” Ron says.

“You speak as though we don’t live in the same castle,” Hermione says drily.

Harry rubs his hair sheepishly. “I mean, it feels that way, since I’ve mostly been hanging out down here.”

“Then you can come out more often…” Hermione hints.

“Yes...that’s the plan, eventually. Sit, sit!” Harry makes everyone sit down and offers the tea and biscuits on the coffee tables.

“It has actually been _more_ quiet for us,” Hannah says, tea cup in hand. “Sprout came by on Tuesday evening and gave everyone a talk.”

“Professor Flitwick has spoken to everyone a few times, too,” Luna murmurs.

“At this point, is it going to stop the worst of them though?” Ginny scoffs, even as she pours a cup of tea for Luna. “No offence Harry, but a lot of us don’t really have time or energy to care about the Slytherins. But the _other_ ones, they know when to shut up in front of Professors.”

“Yes, Harry, most of us don’t hate you,” Ron says. 

“Rather than doing something drastic and removing Slytherin, we should be focusing on finding the people who hurt you...and the others…” Hermione trails off as she realises.

She had thought, well, of course, everyone should be smart enough to not be _so stupid_ as to attack another student, at least no Gryffindor like her. After all, they’ve all been through a War, and everyone should have _learnt_ something. If there’s a problem, students should go to a professor, and if it’s bad enough, it can be escalated to the Aurors.

Yes, there was some bad-mouthing of Slytherin, but who hasn’t done that? Why, back in the day, her, Ron and and Harry had done the same thing. Harry used to _hate_ Malfoy. Hermione wasn’t going to be hypocritical and stop that kind of talk when it’s clear that many Slytherins still walk around with that kind of self-importance.

But there _has_ been students who turned to violence.

Dennis Creevey, who was framed but at the same time, _is an accomplice_...and there’s Ben Taylor who didn’t directly attack Harry, but he certainly didn’t help.

As far as she can tell, the Slytherins have not _reported_ any attacks, aside from the one on Harry…

...but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been any.

This is something that Hermione should know very well. But it completely...didn’t cross her mind.

Zabini soon reappears, closing the door behind him.

“Harry, are you going to tell us what you want to do?” Zabini asks, taking a seat next to Luna.

Harry straightens. Yes. I was thinking...the different Houses have class together, but it’s not that easy to talk and make deep friendships in class. So we should organise fun activities together. Show that we’re friendly, and that only Draco bites.”

Ginny snorts. “Does he really bite you?”

Harry immediately looks confused. “Ah? That was a joke, Gin.”

Ginny leans against Luna. “Hmm, if you say so, Harry…”

“Harry, you can continue,” Zabini prompts.

“Right! So let’s discuss good activities. And also good _people_ for them. The students who are more receptive, and the students from the different Houses who we think will get along well together. In the Winter Break—most of you weren’t here, but we were actually able to play with the other Houses...it was just Aegis and Greyback who ruined everything.”

“We _can_ organise these things, Harry,” Neville says, “But...many of us have good reasons not to want to associate another Slytherin.”

Zabini’s soft smile remains, unruffled. “Dear Longbottom, we understand. Everyone who comes will be because they want to. Indeed, I doubt any kind of coercion is on Harry’s mind. Harry, you want to build natural, organic relationships between the students of the Houses.”

Harry nods. “I know that there are more details, but…” He looks at every single person around the room. “Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Hermione responds immediately. 

Agreement echoes around the room.

“And oh yeah,” Harry turns to Hermione in particular, smiling. “Draco grudgingly admitted that your idea of having trips to Muggle London was good...as long as Professor Coates isn’t there with the Slytherins.”

“Why not?” A sense of reflexive indignation strikes Hermione. She has talked with Professor Coates about these trips, so a criticism of Coates, by association, becomes a criticism of Hermione.

“Because she did nothing when a Slytherin was attacked with a soul orb,” Harry says softly. “Luckily, Draco found the Slytherin quickly.”

Hermione freezes. _Like how I let Harry walk back alone..._

“If you...if you don’t want Professor Coates around, then that is fine,” Hermione finally says. “We can ask Professor McGonagall if the other professors can supervise us.”

Harry’s smile brightens. “Thanks, Hermione.”

Hermione nods her head slightly, her emotions turbulent. How could Professor Coates do such a thing? 

And how could Hermione let Harry walk back alone that night, letting her anger overtake her consideration for Harry’s safety? 

***

Sunday night is the full moon.

Alice Mistle wants to sneak out of Gryffindor, but Ben’s and Mary’s groups stay in the common room all afternoon and evening.

But as the sun dips, she _has_ to leave.

She meets the gaze of an older Gryffindor boy across the room. Both of them grimace as they head to the door.

“Oh, Alice, where are you going?” Mary calls out.

“To the Kitchen, I’m a little hungry,” Alice lies, not meeting Mary’s eyes.

Mary smiles coldly. “Come back soon. Dinner is just in an hour...”

Alice nods without saying anything. She and the other Gryffindor exit, silently walking down to the Hogwarts front door where the others await them.

Madam Pomfrey gathers them all together to walk out to the Forbidden Forest. 

At the familiar, cold edge of the Forest, Madam Pomfrey starts handing out Wolfsbane. “Take your last potion, now, dears. The full moon will come soon…”

Yes, Alice can sense it very well. She drinks down the nasty potion in one go, glancing to where the Slytherins are gathered around Malfoy and Potter. That Nolan Larch gets head pats from Malfoy…

_It’s not fair._

“I suppose I can’t stop you two from staying,” Madam Pomfrey says glumly to Malfoy and Potter.

Potter grins. “You know us too well!”

Madam Pomfrey huffs. “Stay safe. _Everyone_ , stay safe, okay?”

“We’ll stick together,” Malfoy says firmly. “Don’t worry, nothing in the Forest can kill me—us.”

Madame Pomfrey finally leaves.

Malfoy turns to everyone. “Even though Slytherin has separated, tonight, you are all still welcome.”

Potter smiles. “Yes. Look at this basket! I need all of you to help me eat me the food inside.”

“Let’s head in,” one of the older Slytherins says.

Malfoy nods.

Alice trails behind them, her head down. With Malfoy and Potter, tonight won’t be a worry. But tomorrow morning, how will she get back without Mary noticing? In the same common room, Mary will accoust her eventually, and she’ll tell everyone else, and then _everyone_ will know…!

“...Alice, right?” Potter suddenly appears next to her. “Is something wrong?”

Alice doesn’t answer, but the Gryffindor boy does.

“A bunch of others saw us leaving Gryffindor,” he says. “They’ll know when we don’t come back. By the way...thanks for that protective badge. It was from you, right?”

Potter’s mouth turns down. “You’re welcome, Draco and the others make them...You...you can come to Slytherin, you know. You don’t have to resort, just move down to Slytherin. You don’t even have to go back to Gryffindor. The house-elves are happy to move your things safely.”

Alice’s heart skips a beat. _This...this...can I really..._

“Potter, we really can’t…” the Gryffindor boy says.

“You really can,” Potter says firmly. “Don’t worry, you won’t be the first. There are already a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs staying down in Slytherin now. Blaise is really good at making the rooms larger for everyone. You have to be respectful of the other Slytherins, of course, but we’ll be respectful back. It doesn’t make sense if we only help you on the night of the full moon...Alice?”

“Gryffindor will hate us,” she whispers.

“ _I_ resorted,” Potter says with a grin. “You’re just temporarily taking a...educational exchange down in the Slytherin.”

“That’s right,” Malfoy says.

At this point, they’ve now stopped at the clearing, and the bedding and blankets and pillows quickly build into an inviting nest.

“For all of you. After spending these full moons together, I trust that you won’t break _my_ trust. I invite you all to stay in Slytherin. You don’t have to accept, and you don’t have to accept immediately. But think about it. The badges I sent you can be used to contact me…”

Alice swallows. If the other Slytherins are like Malfoy and Potter, then Slytherin is a safer place to be for a werewolf like her.

She can’t think more though, as the moon is about to rise, and she needs to transform.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has hit 100k words!!!!
> 
> thestrals protecc (they can also attacc but not yet lol)
> 
>  **Harry** : *jokingly* The Slytherins don't bite! Well, except Draco.  
>  **Ginny** : Wow Harry, didn't expect that sudden segue into your sex life with Draco.  
>  **Harry** : Σ(°ロ°) Eh??? Nani?? ( _Damn it, why am I picking up terms from Nolan???!)_
> 
> ( _Future_ : Draco nibbles on Harry's ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛.  
>  **Harry** : .....he really bites............(；⌣̀_⌣́) [but then ⬛⬛ happens and Harry’s face cannot be show here] )
> 
> (Gotta catch 'em all!)  
>  **Draco** : I've caught all the Slytherins, now onto non-Slytherins ≖‿≖  
>  **Other Houses** : (╯ಠ_ಠ）╯︵ ┳━┳  
>  **Draco** : Hey, you didn't want these students anyway ┐(￣∀￣)┌
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*
> 
> Harry and Draco continue their atrocious amounts of PDA (dog food), even though it’s not yet Valentine’s Day. (The students shudder to think what they’ll do on Valentine’s day…)
> 
> Garren is so disgusted that he can no longer teach NEWTs Potions, so McGonagall has had to call in a replacement Potions professor. Everyone rejoices, which is a more positive bonding experience than Harry&Draco’s PDA.
> 
> In fact, there is someone who thinks Harry & Draco’s PDA is fun. Luna! The _Quibbler_ posts the (consensual) images of the two kissing, shocking the nation…
> 
>  **Draco** : HAHAHAHAHAHA, I can just imagine all their faces when they find out that I hooked up with Harry (｀∀´)Ψ  
>  **Narcissa** : Draco. Lucius. Narcissa. Malfoy!!!!!  
>  **Draco** : oh f*ck.  
>  **Draco** , head down, round puppy dog eyes: Mother, I can explain…..You see, Harry is too cute. Don’t you want a cute son-in-law?  
>  **Narcissa** : … ノಠ_ಠノ


	31. Chapter 31

Draco bites back a sigh as the full moon rises. Harry is right. It is better if these students could stay in Slytherin instead.

Harry sits down at the edge of the nest, pre-emptively unpacking the food from his picnic basket. “Do you think that if we keep accepting non-Slytherins, then we’ll become a mini-Hogwarts?”

“Looking down on the other houses?” Draco drawls.

Harry rolls his eyes. His voice softens, “Thank you for making that offer to them. It will definitely help with House unity.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Draco retorts.

Harry’s eyes brighten, his lips curving up. “Even better.”

Draco looks away, his heart skipping a beat at Harry’s smile. “Make yourself some hot pumpkin juice,” he orders weakly.

“Yes, boss.”

Nolan is the first werewolf to head back to them after transformation, despite the tell-tale tremors of the still-present pain. Draco pulls Nolan onto his lap, brushing down his fur.

“It’ll be over soon, Nolan.”

“ _Awoo_ ,” Nolan says pitifully. His head perks up a little when Harry pulls out the bloody meat from the picnic basket.

“You hungry, Nolan?” Harry says teasingly.

“ _A-ruff!_ ” Nolan barks.

“Shouldn’t you be nice to me?” Harry wheedles.

Draco bites back a laugh. “Potter, how much older are you?”

“Unlike you old man, I’m young at heart,” Harry says with a winning smile.

“Then you should call me Mr Malfoy politely.”

Harry laughs. “Git, no way, you’re just two months older than me.”

“And _that’s_ why you should listen to me.”

Harry’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “Then do _you_ listen to Pansy?”

Draco doesn’t deign to answer, turning his focus to pampering Nolan instead. Nolan wriggles happily, throwing a wolfy smirk at Harry.

In a trickle, the other transformed students return to the clearing. Not long after, the thestral herd appears.

In the dark Forest, this small clearing is bubbling with activity. Draco entertains the young thestrals and the more playful werewolf students with conjured jumping obstacles; Harry attempts to play fetch-the-stick with Nolan (who soon returns with a huge branch and attempts to poke Harry with it). Some other students lie in the nest, while some stretch their limbs in the surrounding Forest.

As the moon rises higher, Harry yawns. Draco takes this as a sign to start winding down for the night.

“No, no, I’m still awake!” Harry protests with slightly misty eyes.

“Are you sure you’re not going to yawn in the next minute?”

Harry’s face scrunches up...he’s clearly trying to suppress a yawn, and fails.

Draco’s heart feels sweet. How...how did Harry _Potter_ become this cute?

Draco casts warming charms, which soon has everyone sleepy. Once Draco lies down, Harry, after the tiniest bit of hesitation, lies down next to him, while Nolan takes the other side. The other werewolves settle around them, and the thestral herd also stay, the young thestrals piling into a sleepy group together, while a few of the adult thestrals stand guard.

“I’m glad you’re here, Draco,” Harry suddenly says quietly. “Don’t listen to what the papers say, I’m glad I saved you. You’re not _entirely_ a prick.”

Draco _was_ touched, until the last part of that sentence. “...Potter, you should _not_ give public talks with that kind of mouth. Let Granger or myself write speeches for you.”

Harry opens one green eye, snickering. “Go to sleep, Malfoy,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Don’t stay up past your bedtime.”

“Don’t speak my line, Potter,” Draco rubs Harry’s wayward curls.

An urge to lean in to kiss Harry’s forehead hits Draco hard, and he’s already leaning in before he realises. He stops just in time to breathe in Harry’s warm scent.

Draco pulls back, heart thudding.

_What was that?_

_What was that?_

_WHAT WAS THAT?_

Harry yawns, eyes already closed as he burrows deeper into the blankets. 

Draco closes his eyes, but he’s highly aware of Harry next to him, from the sound of his breath, to the warmth from his body, to the bond that connects them.

Draco’s mind flashes to the courting-muggles book that Pansy gave him for Christmas.

His heart thuds. No...how is that possible?

The dragon in his chest purrs. _KEEP HARRY SAFE. KEEP HARRY CLOSE. HARRY MINE_.

Draco’s fingers curl inwards. Maybe it’s not _him_ that likes Harry, but the dragon.

Even though...the dragon _is_ him…

Thoughts turn in Draco’s head as he tries to convince himself that finding someone else fit does not equal liking them. Draco’s not the only one who thinks Harry Potter looks handsome! They were archrivals, archenemies! ...Except, they’re not anymore.

Harry is sleeping right next to him, unguarded against him.

When Draco is certain that everyone around him is asleep, he casts an extra strong warming charm around the nest and quietly gets up.

Harry curls up tighter, but otherwise doesn’t wake.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Draco hurries into the Forest’s trees, leaving behind the thestral leader to keep everyone safe.

Once he’s far away enough, he transforms into his dragon form and stretches his wings into the air. Sounds of animals and creatures paint a rich sound landscape, shadows scattering as Draco glides through the trees.

The air is cold, whistling past him as he cuts through the air. In the brief moment of exertion, Draco’s circling thoughts fade.

He bursts out over the Forest canopy, bright moon hanging overhead. He slows into a languid glide. It feels good to fly like this.

Despite himself, Draco finds himself flying over the clearing where the students are. Where the thestrals are. Where _Harry_ is.

_HARRY, CLOSE TO HARRY, CURL UP AROUND HARRY._

Draco tosses his head and turns away.

*

Harry wakes up, hand unconsciously reaching out.

It’s empty.

Harry’s eyes snap open. Draco! Where did Draco go?

Harry puts his glasses on. Everyone else is still asleep, and the thestrals seem unconcerned. But why would Draco be wandering around in the middle of the night?

Harry grabs his overcloak and carefully climbs out of the nest.

The thestral leader stirs, eyeing him.

“Do you know where Draco is?” Harry whispers.

The thestral leader nods her head, but a moment later, she nudges Harry back towards the nest.

“Hey...but I want to find him! What if he encounters something, or someone? Do the centaurs like him? What if Aegis infiltrates the Forest?”

The thestral leader nudges him back towards the nest again.

“...Did you and Draco conspire to hide from me then?” Harry says, frustrated. 

The thestral leader neighs softly, shaking her head.

“Well, I’m not going to bed until he comes back.”

Harry crosses his arms and resolutely scans the forest trees.

_Draco’s such an idiot!! Doesn’t he always tell me never to head out alone? Then why does he go out alone? So fucking hypocritical! When I see him, when I see him, I’ll be so mad!_

The thestral leader whickers softly to another adult thestral. The other adult thestral heads into the Forest, Harry’s eyes burning after it.

_They better bring Draco back!_

Not long after, the adult thestral returns with Draco walking alongside it.

Harry stands there, arms crossed, showing his full displeasure. “Well, Malfoy, did you enjoy your random midnight stroll around the Forbidden Forest?”

Harry feels vindicated when he sees the guilty expression on Draco’s face.

“You think you’re so powerful, the most powerful, don’t you?” Harry continues. “Not caring what would happen if you were attacked. What if I woke up the next morning to find you missing? How would everyone else feel?”

Draco winces. “Harry…”

“If you went missing...don’t you know how important you are to me—I mean, to everyone in Slytherin?”

“Go back to bed—”

“ _You_ go back to bed!”

Draco startles. The corner of his mouth twitches.

Harry tries very hard to hold his expression...but then the corner of his mouth twitches too.

“...You’re a prat!” Harry grumbles.

“And you’re a git,” Draco says in an indulgent tone. He moves close to Harry. “Bed for both of us.”

“Yes, yes,” Harry nudges Draco first, and they both carefully walk around sleeping thestrals, and carefully step over sleeping werewolves to get back to their original spots in the middle of the blanket nest.

After Draco lies back down, Harry does too. He curls his body, head down, so that he doesn’t have to look at Draco.

And he holds very still, but Draco doesn’t wrap his arm around him, nor rubs his hair like he usually does.

With his eyes closed, Harry waits and waits, and his heart thumps louder and louder.

 _Is...is he angry at me for yelling at him? Is that why he won’t anymore?_ Harry’s chest tightens, and he rolls around, facing away from Draco.

_F-forget it! It’s weird that he does that anyway..._

Yet, some time later, Harry hears Draco sigh quietly.

“Still not asleep yet, Harry?” This is followed by a hand in his hair.

Harry makes a tiny grumble of dissent, but his body is really too used to it; he quickly falls asleep.

*

For a while now, Hermione has kept the Marauder’s Map. It wasn’t safe at the beginning for Harry to take it down to Slytherin with him when he resorted, and since they’re Eighth Years now with lax curfews, being “caught wandering” is not really a problem.

Since Slytherin separated, Hermione has started opening the map to check Harry’s whereabouts. She still finds it hard to believe that Harry _likes_ staying in Slytherin…

But Hermione has to admit that Slytherin is currently the safest place for him, now that they’ve drawn up their walls.

Tonight though, Harry’s not in Slytherin! Hermione quickly scans the entire map, only to find Harry’s name—along with many other students—in the Forest.

On the night of the full moon.

And it’s not just Harry’s name. There are other students, and there’s _Malfoy_.

At that, Hermione feels complicated. After Malfoy reprimanded her for not keeping Harry safe, she would _hope_ that Malfoy won’t betray Harry while out in the Forbidden Forest...

*

In the morning, as the students wake up, get dressed, and have some light breakfast thanks to Harry, Draco extends his invitation once again.

“If any of you wish to come back with myself and Harry, please do. We have breakfast tables down in the Slytherin Commons.”

“And a lot of sofas and a mini library,” Harry adds.

“You have to study though,” Nolan adds.

Draco snorts, rubbing hard on Nolan’s head. “Was that dissent I heard?”

“We’re very grateful,” Nolan says innocently.

Harry snorts, his lips curving up in amusement.

The young Gryffindor, Alice Mistle, agrees first, leading the older Gryffindor boy to agree too. This prompts the Hufflepuffs to agree. Only the Ravenclaw students decline for now.

“It’s not that bad for us…” one Ravenclaw girl says. “Professor Flitwick is very careful.”

Draco doesn’t push them. They meet Madame Pomfrey outside the Forest and they all head back to Hogwarts. Back in the Slytherin Commons, Draco directs Blaise to help settle in their new ‘visitors’.

“It’s a little harder to expand the rooms lately,” Blaise says quietly to him.

“Hogwarts not liking it?” Draco says, brows drawing together.

“Congratulations on being cognisant of others,” Blaise returns.

Draco hums noncommittally. He absently reaches out to Hogwarts through his magic: direct physical contact is no longer necessary.

_We can’t hold on anymore, Hogwarts. You don’t have to try to keep us together._

Hogwarts’ magic ripples, a little sharp.

Draco continues, _You are the witness of all the attacks against us. You, more than anyone, **knows**_.

Over a thousand years, the separation of the magic of the four Founders has been blurred, twisting together to create new colours. Over a thousand years, the magic is Hogwarts is no longer solely of the four Founders. Instead, it is intertwined with all magic and sentiments of its thousands of inhabitants.

The response from Hogwarts is hazy, nonhuman. But its sentiment is, _I will try._

Draco feels cruel, but he has to reply, _But only you and a few are trying. That is not enough_.

*

During breakfast in the Slytherin Commons, Felicity taps Harry on the shoulder.

“Granger and Weasley are outside,” she tells him.

Harry startles. “What, really? Hermione didn’t send me a message…” _Then, is it something important but not urgent?_

“Go,” Draco says.

Harry stands up. “It’s better if I go alone.”

“Stay in the Slytherin entrance foyer.”

Harry nods. The Slytherin entrance foyer would be a better place to stand and talk rather than the corridor outside. Once the door on the Slytherin side closes, Harry opens the entrance out to the corridor.

“Hermione, Ron, come through here,” Harry says. Once his friends enter, the entrance closes again, leaving the three of them in a small, green-decorated room.

“You have an entrance foyer?” Ron makes a face. “When did Slytherin get so posh?”

“Since the others discovered our location,” Harry says, forcing down his cold tone. “What’s the matter? Is it about the Wizengamot meeting today?”

“You’re not taking us in further?” Hermione’s brow wrinkles.

Harry shakes his head. “Not unless you decide to stay. We have some Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who have moved down with us. Mostly siblings.”

As expected, neither Hermione nor Ron want to move in.

“Hermione was the one who wanted to see you,” Ron says.

“Yes…” She draws her wand and casts a privacy charm around them. “I saw that you were out last night. On the full moon. Harry…”

At Hermione’s worried expression, Harry laughs. “You think I’m a werewolf? I’m not. I just hang out with the other students in the Forest, it’s my...what, third? time now.”

“That’s dangerous!”

“Hardly,” Harry gives a dry smile. “C’mon, after everything… Anyway, those students don’t deserve a cold and miserable full moon. Is there anything else? I was in the middle of eating breakfast.”

“So you won’t have breakfast with us.”

“Hermione,” Harry says in a warning tone. “If a single Slytherin appeared on the Gryffindor table…”

“Right, I keep forgetting that you’re a Slytherin now.”

“It’s fine.” Harry doesn’t really want to fight with Hermione.

Silence grows. Harry has already planned to see Hermione and Ron again on Saturday for another House Unity meeting. He doesn’t have anything new to say to them.

“...We’ll see you later then,” Hermione finally says. “If you have time on Wednesday or something to see us…”

“I have Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid on Wednesday afternoon, maybe you can ask him to let you join. Though be forewarned that the thestrals might come too.”

Hermione and Ron nod.

Harry opens the entrance for them. He makes sure they’re out and the entrance has closed before returning back to Slytherin. 

_I really have nothing to say to them_. Harry feels a little burst of fear. They’re his friends, and he doesn’t want to _stop_ being friends.

“I see you’re safe and sound,” Draco’s voice cuts through Harry’s thoughts.

Harry’s lips quirk up by themselves. “Really, Draco, _really?_ I was barely a few meters from you.”

“Eat, you need your energy for _my_ potions class later.”

Harry makes an exaggerated grimace. “Thanks for ruining my morning, Malfoy…”

Draco sniggers. “Hm, and thanks for making my morning excellent.”

*

In the Wizengamot, certain members introduce their bill to remove Slytherin from Hogwarts.

Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt presides over proceedings. He buries his tiredness to call the vote.

Headmistress McGonagall, an expert consultant against the bill, stares at the Wizengamot members with cold eyes as various witches and wizards raise their hands.

Shacklebolt’s gavel comes down. “The Wizengamot has voted. Slytherin is no longer a part of Hogwarts. Therefore, our next order of business is to discuss the Slytherin exit strategy.”

McGonagall’s lips thin. She absolutely does not want to cooperate in this farce.

The Vice Minister, one of those belonging to the faction who presented the bill, takes over. “In consideration to the students, we will allow two weeks of grace…”

*

That evening, many major papers released a special issue all about the removal of Slytherin from Hogwarts. Rumours say that the vote was unanimous! Rumours say that all Slytherin students will be expelled! Rumours say that the Slytherin dungeons will be destroyed! 

These rumours are all wrong.

That evening, after a tiring day at the Ministry, Headmistress McGonagall meets with the four Eighth Year Slytherins to tell them what she knows. 

Slytherin is to be disbanded. All ex-Slytherin students wishing to remain in Hogwarts must resort to the remaining three houses and assimilate. The Slytherin dungeons to be permanently filled in and closed. An Unspeakable will come to ensure the severance of Salazar Slytherin’s magic in the dungeons from the rest of Hogwarts.

Draco’s mood drops. “Can Unspeakables _do_ that?” It’s not truly a question of whether it is possible—with dark magic, almost _anything_ is possible—but rather a question of _if_.

“To carry out the bill? Yes.” McGonagall’s own complexion is bad.

A cold smile floats to Draco’s lips. “And that is why we need to do it _our_ way.”

“The Unspeakable will arrive this Friday.”

“We will discuss what we can do and we’ll notify you.”

The four Eighth Year Slytherins head back down to the Dungeons.

Draco’s eyes narrow at the students loitering in their way.

“Make a delivery for you,” Taylor says with a sneer. He opens a box, and suddenly red Howlers spill forth.

“ **GET SLYTHERIN OUT OF HOGWARTS!”**

**“SLYTHERIN SCUM!”**

**“NO DARK WIZARDS AT HOGWARTS! GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM!”**

**“GOOD JOB, MALFOY JUNIOR!”**

**“EXPEL!”**

**“ _SCUM!”_**

Immediately, the four of them draw their wands and strike the Howlers from the air. 

“Go the fuck away, Taylor,” Harry snarls. “It’s people like _you!_ ”

“You betrayed your own House,” Taylor retorts. “Which makes perfect sense because you’re a slimy Slytherin!”

“You! You have _no fucking idea!!_ ” Harry’s magic rises sharply around him, wind rushing down the corridor.

“Harry, he’s not worth your consideration,” Draco says. He lays a hand on Harry’s arm, nudging him to turn.

Harry grits his teeth. “Right. That bastard.”

“Little boys should run along to their bedtimes,” Pansy drawls.

Blaise casts a spell on the floor underneath Taylor and his friends. The floor tilts, becoming slippery. The Gryffindor students slide all the way down to the other end of the corridor. Pansy’s lips curl up.

“Let’s head back,” Draco says.

Harry follows, but he’s still annoyed, the magic around him heavy. “I just _hate_ it,” he mutters. “How can you just...do that and walk on? If they can’t do house unity, why can’t they just ignore us and act normal?”

Harry’s head slumps. Something in Draco’s heart twists, and part of it is guilt. But what _right_ does Draco have to say anything, given that he was the one who could not _just ignore_ them, and instead separated Slytherin?

“Harry...”

“Voldemort was the easy part,” Harry mumbles. “Kill him. _Done_. How do you stop things like _anger_?”

“There is a method to magically cut it out,” Draco says.

Harry’s head snaps up. “But that’s _wrong_.”

Draco tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Unfortunately, doing so suppresses all your other emotions too. Its side effects are as large as its intended effect. It’s not a feasible solution unless you want someone to waste away in listlessness.”

“If we could—give everyone a clean slate,” Harry sighs. “But that’s not fair. People are still _dead_.” He groans, then visibly forces himself to relax. “Forget it, we need to work out what to do with Slytherin.”

Draco pulls back the hand that was going to comfort Harry and nods. “Yes, we need to discuss.”

Back in the Slytherin Commons, the other students are waiting anxiously.

“Mr Malfoy, what’s going to happen to us?” Nolan asks.

“Unless you want to resort into the other Houses, we’re staying together,” Draco says. “Don’t be scared, okay? We will worry about it, you have an assignment due.”

“Yes, sir.” Nolan pouts, but he obediently sits back down at his table to work.

The four Eighth Years gather into the Head Boy’s room.

“Maybe we could find someone who has a big house and move the Slytherins there for now?” Harry muses, glancing at the other three.

“Blaise has the biggest mansion,” Pansy promptly says with a grin. However, her smile quickly fades at Blaise’s serious expression.

Blaise raises his eyes to Hogwarts. “Slytherin’s magic has already begun to separate from the other three.” He sighs. “Poor Hogwarts.”

Draco can sense it too: how the threads of magic are shifting and pulling apart. How Slytherin is starting to repel from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

“The Slytherin Dungeons will move,” Draco says.

Harry’s eyes grow wide. “ _What?!_ You mean, physically? Really?”

“The magic of Slytherin no longer blends smoothly. Like oil and water, we will separate,” Draco says.

Blaise continues, “The Slytherin Dungeons is saturated with Salazar Slytherin’s magic.” His eyes dim. “To reduce the pressure on Hogwarts, we should carefully unravel the threads of Slytherin’s magic from the rest of Hogwarts. _That_ is work for myself and Draco.”

“You really don’t expect the rest of us to just sit around?” Pansy cuts in.

“No, of course not.” Draco looks at Pansy and Harry. “The rest of you can reinforce the Slytherin Commons with your own magic.”

Blaise nods. “Yes,” he says slowly. “We will tell McGonagall to reinforce the rest of Hogwarts.”

They all agree on the plan, and it _is_ straightforward. But Hogwart is old, and big, with its magic becoming more complicated and complex more and more as the years pass.

It will not be an easy task.

***

In one of Malfoy Manor’s drawing rooms, Narcissa Malfoy discards the evening’s special paper and takes the letter that her son has just sent instead. Her unease does not dissipate, Draco’s letter is not reassuring at all.

Lucius Malfoy sneers. “A thousand years of tradition, gone like that. If I didn’t know better, I would think Draco was working for the Wizengamot.”

“Well, he _doesn’t_ ,” Narcissa says sharply. “If you don’t have any suggestions to help Draco, then _keep quiet!_ ”

Lucius’s sneer deepens. “Happy our son sent _you_ a letter and not me? He clearly listened to nothing of our talk.”

Narcissa’s eyes narrow. “Slytherin is breaking. We _must_ repeal this.”

“And with _who_?” Lucius gives a hollow laugh. “All of our connections are either in Azkaban or have fled to the Continent. You couldn’t even secure a marriage for Draco!”

“In this matter, we are not the only ones who want to see Slytherin remain,” Narcissa replies coldly. She stands up, holding Draco’s letter in hand. “ _I_ will figure this out. _You_ sit tight and don’t let the Aurors come.”

With a flare of her robes, she leaves behind Lucius, who stares uselessly into the hearth flames.

***

Harry suppresses his nerves, sitting quietly and listening as Draco and Blaise tell the rest of Slytherin House how they will need to magically reinforce the Slytherin Dungeons.

There are two ways to do it: one is to use their wand to cast various spells and wards. Felicity and Pansy take charge of this. The second is to directly weave their own magic into building around them, but this is only suitable for the older students who have more magic under their control, since the nature of the direct injection means that it’s not under the confines of a neat spell.

Harry joins the group of seventh and sixth years gathering around Draco and Blaise.

“Stretch out your magic to the walls of Hogwarts,” Blaise says softly. “Can you feel it pulsing? Can you feel how the weave is made, the individual threads?”

Harry wrinkles his brows. Once he suppresses his own magic, he can sense the magic of Hogwarts. But it’s all a big blurry mess—he can’t _feel_ those threads at all.

“Blaise and I will lead you,” Draco says. “Harry.”

Harry startles. “Yes.”

“Hold out your hand. I’ll guide your magic.”

 _Ba-dump!_ Draco’s hand rests firmly on his, slightly larger. A tingle of Draco’s magic spreads through Harry.

“Imagine your magic as a thin mist,” Draco’s voice is low, with a hint of command. “Allow it to spread slowly, wrapping up Slytherin safely.”

Draco lets him try by himself while he teaches the others.

Harry tries, but his control of magic has never been that fine. By the time Draco returns to him, Harry’s face is contorted with frustration.

“Harry.”

“Draco,” Harry says pitifully.

Draco’s lips curl up. “Ah, I found something I’m better at than you.”

“ _Git_. C’mon, tell me how to do it again.”

Draco’s brow wrinkles. “There’s something else we can do. You can send me your magic, and _I’ll_ manipulate it.”

Harry immediately nods, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.”

Draco takes his offered hand. “Now remember how I taught you to keep your magic under your skin? This time, push it into mine. But don’t forget to let go of it, so that I can control it.”

Harry nods obediently. He sends a small trickle at first, then more and more as Draco requests it.

The skin where their palms and fingers touch slowly warm up.

Draco gives him a _you’re-doing-well-Harry_ smile. Harry unconsciously smiles back, his heart skipping a beat. Draco momentarily squeezes Harry’s hand, making Harry’s eyes drop to their fingers.

 _Ba-dump, ba-dump_.

Draco’s not doing this for the other Slytherins. Does that mean Draco likes him too?

It’s already February. In less than two weeks time, it’ll be Valentine's Day. Wouldn’t it be so wonderful if Harry could spend it with Draco? Then...should he ask Draco out on the day, or before it?

Since Pansy gave Draco that book on muggle courting habits, doesn’t that mean she knows that Draco likes someone who grew up around muggles?

Out of all the people that Draco spends a lot of time with, doesn’t Harry best fit the bill?

Harry’s heart begins to race as his imagination paints what they could do.

“Harry, what are you imagining now?” Draco’s voice suddenly feels intensely indulgent.

Harry’s cheeks heat up. He clears his throat. “I just thought you might want a break from all my magic.”

“Oh, I can handle you.”

Harry sends a pulse of magic to Draco. “Handle that!”

***

While the Slytherins, the most of the Professors, and selected students from the other Houses work around the clock against the Wizengamot’s “ _gracious_ ” deadline, other students remain wilfully ignorant.

_“Hey, why is the Slytherin table even still here? No one sits there. It’s taking up space!”_

_“Those Slytherins think they’re too good for the rest of us…”_

_“They better fucking leave soon.”_

_“—Hah, and set up their own dark magic school, right?”_

_“The Ministry will kick them out. Didn’t you read the papers…”_

***

Draco has a sleepless night, greeting Friday morning with bleary eyes and a pepper-up in hand.

They’ve done enough for Slytherin House. But the rest...it’s not done. Slytherin’s magic still threads through the castle, and Draco and Blaise and the Professors have only been able to untangle part of it.

Late in the morning, a person from the Ministry arrives at Hogwarts’ gates.

McGonagall suppresses her anger and invites the Unspeakable to her office, where the Sorting Hat stays.

“ _NOPE NOPE NOPE_ ,” the Sorting Hat chants. “I was made of Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I sorted _you_. I will not pretend Slytherin no longer exists! Where is your loyalty to Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts serves its students, not the other way around,” the Unspeakable says coldly.

McGonagall picks up the Hat, moving it away from the Unspeakable. “Don’t you dare tamper with the Hat.”

The Unspeakable says softly, “You have no separated Slytherin, have you? That’s why the Sorting Hat still thinks Slytherin is a part of Hogwarts.” He draws his wand. “Don’t stop me, Headmistress, or you will be reported for obstructing the law and removed for your post.”

With that, he begins to chant.

McGonagall grits her teeth. Through her connection with Hogwarts, she can feel what he is doing. He’s _cutting through Slytherin’s magic_. “Stop that! Stop! The Wizengamot gave us _two weeks!_ Don’t you dare!” She throws a stunner at him, causing the Unspeakable to break his chant.

But Hogwarts has been at such tension with Slytherin.

Students are walking between classes. Down on the ground floor, Hermione and Ron are passing by the Great Hall. Despite the Slytherin separation, the Slytherin Hourglass has some points inside.

“Will the Slytherins move that inside their dungeons then?” Ron muses. 

“Maybe—” 

_Creeaaakk— **CRACK!**_

A hiss escapes Hermione as she pushes herself and Ron back.

The Slytherin Hourglass topples from its position and falls to the ground with a thundering _**CRASH**_. Shards of glass cut through the air.

“ _Protego!_ ” Hermione casts immediately. Ron follows a second later. Brilliant blue cuts between glass and the other students walking by the Hourglasses at the wrong time.

They’re not fast enough; some students gasp in pain as pieces of shrapnel hit them. “ _What the fuck?_ ”

Hermione’s eyes widen, taking in the scene. “Move, move!” she shouts.

Cracks spread from where the hourglass once stood, across the stone floor, up the wall that backs into the Great Hall. The floor shudders. Hermione shoves other students away as cracks snake across the floor to the far wall. Glass in the windows shatter, as the floor opens into a chasm to the corridor below.

“Bloody hell,” Ron mutters.

Hermione casts a wide _stasis_ charm. Abruptly, Hogwarts settles. But sweat starts to bead on Hermione’s forehead. 

“What the bloody Merlin was _that_?” Ron says in disbelief, his wand sweeping to clear away rubble and glass.

Hermione swallows. “Hogwarts is falling apart. It’s _really_ falling apart.” She looks at Ron, and they’re both thinking: _What’s happening down in the dungeons? **What’s happening to Harry?**_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True writer's talk here, I was thinking of splitting this chapter up into two, but there was no nice way to evenly split it, so have a ~5k chapter instead. Also, consistent scene dividers? PFFFFTT, never heard of them.
> 
> _(:ι」∠)_ *lies on ground* also I wonder how the romance progression feels as a reader....
> 
> Draco and Harry bickering about their age difference (of ~two months) is like...one of my favourite things lol. For those who read danmei. Imagine Harry calling Draco gege...... 🥺🥺
> 
> (or rather: Draco is like, I'm two months older, you should call me gege!! and Harry is like, nah, I’ll call you "bro"!)
> 
> **Draco** : *pats Harry's head*  
>  **Harry** : *pavlovian response: falls asleep*  
>  **Draco** : *want to hug him want to kiss him want to keep him safe*  
>  **Draco** : ...Are these feelings?  
>  **If Pansy knew** : *facepalm x1000*
> 
> Harry gives his hand to Draco [in marriage!]. Ah, no it's just giving Draco his magic...
> 
> *meanwhile in an alternate universe*  
> Harry is nervously about to meet the in-laws.  
>  **Harry** : （>﹏<） Draco, can’t we just elope? 🥺🥺🥺  
>  **Draco** : Do you want my mum to kill you, resurrect you, then kill you again?  
>  **Harry** : Don’t you love me… 🥺🥺🥺  
>  **Draco** : *ahhh!! he’s too cute!* (~￣³￣)~ *head pat head pat, kiss kiss*  
>  **Narcissa** , who opens the door/has just arrived: …


	32. Chapter 32

Professor McGonagall gets up from her tackle of the Unspeakable, but it’s too late. She can see the cracks in Hogwarts’ magic, the sudden snap of breakage.

“I will charge the MInistry for damages to Hogwarts!” she hisses at the Unspeakable. “Out, _out!_ ” She opens the floo in her office and kicks the Unspeakable out right into Kingsley’s office.

With a short, “ _Your_ Unspeakable wilfully destroyed Hogwarts property!” to the shocked Kingsley, McGonagall locks the floo and rushes out of her office.

 _Safety first! Get all the students out!_ In quick succession, McGonagall conjures up patroni to spread her message.

*

Down in Slytherin, Draco immediately stops lecturing. He unerringly meets Blaise’s gaze from across the Commons.

Another sharp spike of magic. Hogwarts is trembling, trying, trying to hold itself together.

Draco taps a _sonorus_ to his throat. “ _ **EVACUATE HOGWARTS! Head out to the grounds!** ” _He immediately follows it with sending messages down all the badges at his disposal.

“Felicity, lead everyone out!” Draco’s heart beats like a drum. The dragon rises dangerously close to his skin. _Slytherins in danger!_

“Wait, what about you?” Harry grabs onto Draco.

“ _We_ are going to hold Slytherin together. It’s about to move.”

The magical center of Slytherin is located at the central firepit. From that center, Draco throws out a web of magic.

“Like how we reinforced Slytherin?”

Draco purses his lips. “Let me borrow your magic.”

“Okay!” Harry immediately grabs Draco’s hand. His magic immediately flows to Draco.

Draco breathes. Compresses Harry’s and his own magic and lets the awareness of Hogwarts flow through him.

_Something is about to happen._

_Hold_ , he urges Hogwarts. He twists his magic in with Hogwarts, shifting the strands of magic, soothing it.

 _You don’t want to hurt your students_ , he tells Hogwarts. _Hold_.

Draco’s aware that Hogwarts’ magic is still spiking. He’s aware that people are spilling out the doors, that house elves are apparating students out.

On the other side of the firepit, Blaise and Pansy are also helping to keep Hogwarts together just a little bit longer.

Every second stretches out like hours. They’re just a group of _eighth year students_ , fighting against years of magic of the four Founders at its peak.

“Draco,” Blaise says.

Draco makes the effort to incline his head.

 _Everyone out?_ Draco asks Hogwarts. He feels an affirmative pulse. He slowly withdraws his magic, encasing it around just Slytherin instead, following Blaise’s lead.

Hogwarts starts to shift.

The ground shudders beneath them.

Slytherin is _moving_.

With the magic of Draco, Harry, Blaise, and Pansy wrapping around the Slytherin Dungeons, the entire set of walls and floors begin to shift. 

Stone grates across stone, physical structures rip apart. Magic stretches, snaps. The window facing the Black Lake shows that the Slytherin Dungeons is _rising_ , shocked creatures fleeing from the Dungeon’s path. The water becomes lighter and lighter, until the ground and _sky_ can be seen.

Slowly, the Dungeons—no longer _in the dungeons_ —settle.

The four of them hold for minutes longer, sinking magical anchors into the ground around them.

Finally, Draco exhales and releases his magic.

Harry tightens his grip on Draco’s hand. “Draco…”

“Let’s head out.”

The four of them step through the entrance foyer and out _side_. The lake shore against one side, the Forbidden Forest towards the other side, and the Hogwarts castle towering a distance away.

Draco looks back at the Slytherin Building and frowns. It is larger than Draco expects. Eyes narrowing, Draco hurries forward. With a sliver of magic, he makes an entrance in a wall that is not meant to be there.

The stink of something rotten hits him. At his feet are the crushed bones of tiny creatures...and in the dark, looms a large, scaly corpse. He mutters a _Lumos_.

It’s Slytherin’s Creature. The Basilisk.

The Chamber of Secrets _exists_.

Draco turns his head upon Harry’s approach.

“Ah, you probably heard rumours of what happened in second year...they’re probably true…” Harry says, glancing at the corpse.

“Of course,” Draco says, somehow not surprised that _Harry_ was involved. He glances back at the corpse one last time, before pushing Harry out and resealing it. Even a dead basilisk is still dangerous.

Outside, Blaise and Pansy are looking towards Hogwarts castle. In the distance, the Slytherins are hurrying towards them.

“What do you think happened to Hogwarts’ foundations?” Pansy says in a low voice.

Draco’s eyes scan over Slytherin Building again, noticing the fragments of stone jutting out unsightly, the portraits still stuck on Slytherin’s outer walls...He’s sure that if he flies up, the ‘roof’ of the Slytherin building will be the floors of the rooms above, flooring that is now _missing_ from Hogwarts castle.

“We need to make the building weather-proof,” Draco says.

“I want to go back there and check,” Harry says. “When you said that Slytherin would _move_ —”

“It shouldn’t have moved yet,” Draco cuts in. “If we had time to reinforce the rest of Hogwarts, the rejection would not have been severe. Something unexpected happened.”

Harry’s lips turn down unhappily. “We should still go help.”

Draco acquiesces. “Protect Slytherin first.”

Harry nods unhappily. The four Eighth Years join their magic to cast a weather-proofing wards over Slytherin.

By the time they’re done, the Slytherin cohort, plus visitors, have made it to them. Their eyes are wide as they look at the standalone building.

Jamie trembles a little as his head tilts back to look at the very top. “If we had been in one of the classrooms above…”

“No one was,” Michelle says in a low voice.

Felicity walks over to the four Eighth Years. “How is it?”

“Structural integrity is still in place,” Draco says. “But you may want to check whether or not anything came loose and have everyone reinforce everything again just in case.”

Felicity nods.

“I’ll help,” Pansy says to her. “You three go back to Hogwarts castle.”

Draco glances at Blaise.

Blaise’s eyelids lower, and he says quietly, “Slytherin won’t move for now.”

*

Harry tries to remain calm and keep a steady pace as he leads Draco and Blaise back to the main castle.

On the lawn directly outside the castle, students in blue, red and yellow cluster.

“ _CLASSES ARE CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE,”_ McGongall’s voice carries through her sonorus. “ _PLEASE REMAIN CALM WHILE WE CHECK THE STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY OF HOGWARTS. YOU WILL BE ABLE TO RETURN TO YOUR DORMS SOON.”_

Some of the students notice the arrival of the three Slytherins.

“Harry!” Hermione rushes towards them, followed by Ron.

Harry gives a relieved smile. “You’re okay.”

“That would be my line!” Hermione admonishes, even as she hugs him, hard.

“How is it?”

Ron shakes his head. “Not good, mate.”

“I want to see myself,” Harry says firmly. He starts towards the front stairs, not particularly caring whether or not anyone follows him.

“Mr Potter.” McGonagall blocks his way.

“Professor, I want to help,” Harry says.

McGonagall’s lips thin, passing over Harry to the people behind him.

“Professor…” Hermione starts.

“The Unspeakable meddled,” McGonagall says in a cold tone. “He maliciously casted a spell to sever a part of Slytherin, and the backlash sent a shock through the entirety of Hogwarts. I have already alerted Kingsley, but that won’t turn back time.”

Hermione opens her mouth, but then closes it, frowning.

“All the more reason for us to go in and patch Hogwarts up _now_ ,” Harry says stubbornly. “If we leave it, then even _more_ things might break.”

“Our top priority is to stabilise the building and strengthen the foundation work,” Blaise says. “Slytherin Building has survived.”

“I still have magic left!” Harry adds.

“We want to see, too, Professor.” Hannah Abbot and Neville hurry over. “It’s our school too. We’ll be careful and stick together.”

Finally, McGonagall lets them pass. “I am only letting you in as you are _Eighth_ Years. Do _not_ go too far inside, understood?”

Harry nods obediently and heads through the open doors.

There is nothing immediately wrong, aside from shaken portraits.

But then Harry sees the fallen Hourglass, the cracks snaking across the stone floor.

He walks to where the stairs heading down to Slytherin are.

_No...no…._

The stairs are still there. But they land on a fragmented floor, below which is entirely flooded with water.

“Hufflepuff House…” Hannah says, her brows pinched together in distress.

Harry’s bottom lip trembles.

Hogwarts is his home. It’s not meant to look like this. Why didn’t they try harder? Why did this happen? Who were the damned people who put that Anti-Slytherin bill to the Wizengamot? Harry would like to throw them back in time to face off Voldemort for him!

“Hannah, Neville, Hermione, Ron, we’ll have to ask you to help us,” Blaise says in a measured tone. “The three of us used a lot of magic to keep Slytherin together during the move.”

“What do you want us to do?” Hannah is quick to agree.

“We need to cast a wide stasis and set down new foundations for the castle.”

“I tried a stasis before,” Hermione says, frowning. “Something like that is not enough.”

“One thread is weak, but weave many threads together and we produce strength,” Blaise says. “Here’s what we will do…”

Harry ignores Blaise, slowly descending the stairs instead, wand ready in his other hand. He knows that Draco is quietly following him.

Harry stops a few steps away from the bottom. The water below is dark. A few fish are swimming.

A house elf suddenly pops up next to him. “Mr Potter, be careful!”

“I know. How is Hufflepuff House? Can the house-eves cast some anti-water wards?”

“Yes!” the house-elf quickly nods. “We be doing that immediately!” The elf departs with a _crack_.

Somehow, this destruction of Hogwarts feels different compared to the damage sustained during the Battle nearly a year ago.

Somehow, it feels so much harder.

“Harry….I’m...sorry.” Draco’s voice is extremely soft and quiet.

Harry swallows, his eyes growing sour. “What are you saying sorry for? That Unspeakable would have done it anyway. The Ministry would have done it anyway. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

Draco sighs lightly. “Since we’re here, we can set down new foundations.”

“Okay.” Harry takes a deep breath and holds out his hand. “I’ll give you my magic. You do it.”

“Okay.”

They work silently as Draco gathers fragment stone and sinks down new pillars down to support the remaining floors.

*

Draco twists Harry’s magic with his and with what’s left of Hogwarts to form new pillars, to block the leakage from the Black Lake into the castle…

In Draco’s eyes, magic shines. He can pick out all the fine weaves of magic. The magic of each Founder has a distinct colour, and despite the Slytherin House expulsion, traces of Slytherin’s magic remains.

The wound in Hogwarts is not the same as the broken Vanishing Cabinet. It’s much, much, worse. Where Slytherin had been torn out, there is now the frayed edges of the magic weave. The edge that is starting to tear itself apart as the remaining Slytherin magic is repelled from the rest, making the wound even worse.

Guilt is a heavy stone in Draco’s stomach. He doesn’t regret separating Slytherin. It was, _is_ , the best action. If something is broken, he prefers to take it apart before putting it back together. But he has grown up with the knowledge of Hogwarts, Hogwarts that has been standing for generations upon generations.

Draco looks more closely at the fraying edges of Hogwarts’ magic. He can see how parts of it are trying to knit together against the repulsion. Holes in the magical weave further away from the main cut are healing, but at the edge, strings of magic are cast, only to fall and dangle, unable to reach the other side. It’s just too big.

 _If we employed the magical-building equivalent of cauterisation_ …

Draco has dragon fire. If he enlaces it with magic, perhaps he could compress the raw magic edges and merge them into a solid mass.

But it would hurt Hogwarts, and that will hurt Harry.

At that moment, Harry’s grip on Draco’s hand tightens.

“It’s not enough is it?”

“Don’t be so maudlin, Harry,” Draco says lightly. “With all the students and professors in Hogwarts, how could it not be enough?”

Harry’s eyes darken. “ _All the students…_ ” he mumbles.

Draco doesn’t reply, moving onto constructing a new ‘floor’ to cover up the hole below.

*

That evening, McGonagall allows groups of students at a time, accompanied by a professor, to head inside the castle to retrieve some items. However, she’s not ready to risk students sleeping inside overnight.

The house-elves are a massive help in transporting the house tables outside for dinner while the professors and older students put up makeshift tents for everyone.

As the Headmistress, Merlin knows that Minerva desperately wants to fix Hogwarts as soon as possible. But as Headmistress, she has duty to her students first and foremost. She can sense the rippling _stasis_ that the Eighth Years are weaving.

She summons a house-elf. “Tell the students inside to come out for dinner.”

“Yes, Headmistress!”

Minerva sighs. _Isn’t it such good luck that tomorrow is a Saturday_. After all this is over, she needs a stiff drink and a long nap in the sunshine.

*

Hermione casts until she can’t cast anymore. Zabini’s method seems to work. When the house-elf comes to call them to eat, Hermione lets out a huge tired sigh, scanning the area for Harry. She knows that Harry and Malfoy went off together a while ago.

“Where’s Harry?”

Zabini looks towards the stairs. “He and Draco are down there.”

Hermione’s stomach drops. _Down there?!_ She hurries over, only to see new platforms and pillars, and a plain stone floor hiding the dark waters below. For a moment, she can’t believe her eyes. Can Harry and Malfoy have _that_ much magic?

In fact, Harry’s not casting. Instead, he’s holding Malfoy’s hand, while Malfoy raises stone and adds it into the new construction.

Harry is not a casual hand-holder. Then...then does that mean...

Hermione’s heart fluctuates. She swallows, remembering what McGonagall told them. That this was caused by the Ministry, and not Malfoy. Zabini also told her how they had been strengthening the foundations all week. If they hadn’t, Hogwarts might have already crashed down without the lower floors.

For a moment, just suppose that Malfoy is sincere. For a moment, just suppose that Malfoy _has_ changed. For a moment, ignore Malfoy’s attitude and consider his _actions_...

Harry’s head turns. “Hermione?”

Hermione startles.“Harry!...And Malfoy. It’s dinner time.” 

“We’re not finished yet,” Harry says. Hermione cannot see Harry’s face properly, shadowed below.

“A few more stabilising supports,” Malfoy says evenly. “But if you’re hungry, Harry, we can ask one of the house-elves to bring you something.”

“Later. We can eat back in Slytherin.”

“Okay,” Hermione says reluctantly. She walks away to where Ron is waiting, shaking her head.

*

There’s nothing romantic about Harry holding Draco’s hand, trying to dredge up as much magic as possible. He only stops when Draco says to stop, only to find that he doesn’t even have any energy left to climb up the stairs. They have to summon a house-elf to apparate them out and back to the Slytherin Building.

That night, Harry collapses into the big bed, exhaustion in every muscle and anxiety in every nerve. He falls into a restless sleep between Pansy and Draco.

***

> **_HOGWARTS HAS SPOKEN—SLYTHERIN NO LONGER_**.
> 
> _Last night, Hogwarts castle has successfully expelled the Slytherin Dungeons to the Forbidden Forest, where it belongs with all the other dark creatures. The word of Hogwarts itself is clear: **we no longer want Slytherin**._
> 
> _This comes following the Wizengamot vote to remove Slytherin from Hogwarts. The Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt has released the following statement:_
> 
> _“No, Slytherin students will_ not _be expelled. They will be given the opportunity to resort into the most suitable remaining house…”_

Pansy reads the Saturday papers and narrows her eyes.

*

The next morning, Harry wakes up, immediately lurching out of bed. _Need to get dressed, eat, go back to Hogwarts…_ He looks out the window, his heart skipping a beat when he realises that it’s already mid-morning.

“Don’t move, Harry.” Draco blocks his way.

Harry stares at him. “You can’t stop me.”

“You haven’t recovered enough magic yet,” Draco snorts. “It wasn’t long ago when you were hit by the soul orb, I _do_ hope you remember.”

“Draco. You _can’t_ stop me.”

“How many students are there in Hogwarts, Harry? Grab a few of them and make them give some of their magic. Ask Longbottom. Ask Lovegood. Ask Abbott.”

“The unity meeting!” Harry’s mind races. Forget about bonding activities, right now, they need to work together to hold Hogwarts together.

“Eat breakfast _first_.”

Harry nods and rushes to get dressed.

By the time Harry and Draco head over to Hogwarts, Hermione has already called all the old DA members to cast stasis spells.

“Hi Harry!...and Malfoy.” She has dark bags under her eyes as much as he does.

Harry is too tired for this. “Hermione. Draco and I are going to see the supports.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Harry grabs the corner of Draco’s robes and pulls him along. They descend the stairs. Some of the water has been siphoned out, and there is a clear pathway to the kitchens and to where the Hufflepuff dormitories lie, but elsewhere, destruction remains. And the area below, where the remaining Potions classrooms lie remain completely flooded, including Snape’s old office and potions laboratory which technically isn’t part of the Slytherin Dungeons.

“Draco—”

“I’m not taking your magic, or you’ll _die_ ,” Draco drawls poking him in the cheek.

Harry rubs his cheek, pouting. It’s almost normal, as long as he doesn’t turn his head…

“ _Out_.” The voice is familiar, causing conflicting emotions to rise up in Harry.

“ _Fine, whatever, no need to be_ rude _about it._ ”

Harry and Draco quickly turn around towards the voices coming from the wall.

Portrait Severus Snape is shooing another portrait out of their painting.

“Snape.” Harry frowns a little. “What do you want?”

Snape glares at Harry, then glares at Draco. “Draco Malfoy! I should give you detention for your impudent actions!” he snaps. “Meddling in things you do not understand! I can look away from you befriending Potter, but this! Is unacceptable!”

Draco tilts his head back in a lazy manner. “I am protecting the Slytherins.”

“And so blinded by your pride and arrogance, you made it _worse_. Has the War taught you nothing? What would your _mother_ say? Your _father?_ ”

Draco’s lips tighten.

Portrait Snape sneers. “And so you deepened the divide between Slytherin and everyone else.”

At that, Harry can’t help but snort. “ _Professor_ , really? And _you_ did not? Your time as a Professor, in the aftermath of the first war with Voldemort, and _you_ did nothing. You personally biased yourselves against the other Houses! I bet you didn’t teach the Slytherins anything about house-unity!”

“Ungrateful, Potter, of course you are.”

“Severus,” Draco cuts in, “Why are you speaking to me now?”

“I allowed you into my office, so that you may enhance your potions skills in spite of that _Richard Garren_. I allowed that you became the Head of Slytherin, because that was the better alternative than _Richard Garren_. But for you to _dare_ to stand and take Slytherin from Hogwarts, from where it has been for over _one thousand years_ —I could _not_ believe Malfoy hubris would rise to these heights.”

“Snape, you weren’t the one who _allowed_ Draco to become the Head of Slytherin,” Harry says. “The _students_ , including me, chose him. He’s a much better Head of House than you probably ever were! We're going to actually make things better, not like you!” Harry grabs Draco’s sleeve. “Forget him, let’s go.”

“Potter! You’re not a Slytherin, no matter what the blasted hat said!”

Draco gives Portrait Snape a dark look. “Careful, Severus.”

“ _Ungrateful!_ ” Portrait Snape draws his robes together and exits the portrait.

The original portrait—a middle age witch—returns with a huff.

“We could burn Severus’ portrait,” Draco mutters darkly.

Harry’s lips twist in discomfort. “Don’t do that. You know...Snape tried to save my mum. Failed though.”

Draco scoffs. “If he had _truly_ meant to save her, he should have been dead before she was.”

Harry’s heart starts to throb in his chest as the next words spill from his mouth: “You would do that for your loved ones?”

Draco’s silver-grey eyes meet Harry’s. “Don’t mistake my actions for _your_ saviour complex. You would throw yourself in the line of fire. I would shoot down the spell and kill the bastard who dared.”

Harry laughs breathlessly. “Right, of course you would.”

If he had been one of Draco’s loved ones _before_ , would Draco have killed Voldemort for him? Or would Harry have been pulled to the other side? No...Draco now is different from Draco before.

Draco’s voice breaks Harry’s thoughts. 

“Though I presume you would rather be the one saving people, Mr Potter.”

“Oh, come off it. I just do what’s right.” Harry looks at the watery mess that is the missing place where Slytherin should lie.

_...Not a good time to ask him, is it?_

_Can’t I ever have a normal year? Come to think of it, my years with the Dursleys were probably the most normal, even when they called me a freak…_

“I still recovered some magic overnight. Draco, you can use it.” He holds his hand out.

Draco, however, doesn’t take it immediately. “Harry, do you think we should have tried harder to keep Slytherin as part of Hogwarts? Suppose we never splitted. Suppose we kept that Unspeakable and any other Ministry people _out_ of Hogwarts. Sure, the Wizengamot might have passed their bill. But they might _not_ have succeeded if we all stood against them. After all, the British Ministry is not nearly as old as Hogwarts.”

Harry’s outstretched hand curls into a loose fist. “You know I wasn’t fully for it. But...Hogwarts isn’t an independent city state. Even when _Dumbledore_ was here, we still had _Dementors_ in the school because of the Ministry. We can’t just, I don’t know, imperio people to get along.”

“No, that wouldn’t be _ethical_ ,” Draco says with the lightest sigh. “And neither would using Legilimency to forcefully break patterns of thought. Morals are quite restrictive.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “I’m watching you, got that?”

“Haven’t you been watching me for seven years…”

Harry punches his arm. “That should be _my_ line, git.”

Draco smirks, but that smirk drops a moment later. “Unfortunately, there is no way we can fix this anymore. The Ministry was too hasty.”

A heavy stone forms in Harry’s stomach. “Don’t tell me. You think that Hogwarts is going to fall apart _completely_?”

“Sometimes, things can be fixed. But the rejection of Slytherin is too strong. It would be better if everyone could start anew.”

“Right, we’ll make a new castle, even better than what the Founders could do,” Harry says carelessly. “Bigger and better than before…!”

Harry looks at Draco.

Draco looks back at him.

“The Founders were only four people. If _everyone_ helped…”

“Magic has advanced,” Draco says. “Does it not annoy you that the seating in the Great Hall has no backrest? And the fact that it’s a long _bench_? How _vulgar_.”

Harry’s lips curl up. “Not really. Maybe you’re just weak.”

“Then, what of the lack of seating space in the library?”

“Hmmm.”

Draco snorts.. “I should have expected such from _you_.”

“ _Hey_ , what do you mean by that?”

“Come on, _Potter_ , what kind of school did you dream of having?”

Harry strokes his chin and imaginary beard. “ _Well_ , it would have been quite nice if Voldemort didn’t try to kill me every year. And I would protest against not allowing first years on the Quidditch teams, except I got in, didn’t I?” Harry shoots him a sly look.

Draco rolls his eyes. “What about _two_ Quidditch pitches?”

“It’s not like there’s _space_ —”

“ _Wizarding_ space, dear Potter.”

“...Okay, fine,” Harry says, smiling exasperatedly. “It would have prevented a lot of Slytherin-Gryffindor fights.”

“Ah, likely not.”

“Why?”

Draco raises an eyebrow, and jabs Harry in the arm. “Because _I_ would still fight _you_. It is against the codes of a Malfoy to let someone else have the last word.”

Harry laughs. “But, the answer of course is that every common room should have a chocolate fountain.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “And here I thought only Jamie would say that…”

Hope is starting to bloom in Harry’s chest. _Hogwarts was built once. With everyone together, they can build it again!_

Harry can’t wait to tell everyone. “Draco, let’s go!”

*

In the end, Harry organises a House-Unity meeting after all, gathering Blaise, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Hannah to the gardens.

After Harry tells them that Hogwarts cannot stay together, more than one person is reluctant.

“It’s not _impossible_ to keep Hogwarts together,” Hermione says.

“But she will come apart faster than we can work,” Blaise says, his gaze sad and soft on Hogwarts castle.

“Instead, we should salvage what we can from Hogwarts and rebuild completely!” Harry says.

“But...Hogwarts has been here for years,” Neville’s brows pinch together. 

“Do you really think we can rebuild it from scratch?” Ron says dubiously.

“Not from scratch,” Luna says, her eyes already gazing somewhere no one else can see. “Combining the new with the old. Something blue, something borrowed…”

“That’s marriage, Luna,” Ginny says drily.

“With hard work, why _can’t_ we do it?” Hannah says. “It would be nice if we didn’t have to crawl into Hufflepuff. It’s _really_ not good for some of the students…”

“Yes, that kind of thinking!” Harry grins.

“This won’t work without the professors,” Hermione warns.

“If you tell them this, they won’t be happy,” Ginny replies. “We’ll have to break it to them slowly…”

“Regardless of the plan, we still need to preserve as many components of Hogwarts as possible,” Blaise says.

Harry tampers his enthusiasm. “Yes, let’s do that first…”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1000 year old magical building vs a couple of professors and students? WHO WILL WIN**
> 
> (well, it depends on your definition of “win”...)
> 
> Also, two days (ish) have passed in this chapter...are we ever going to get to Valentines’ day???
> 
> *
> 
> Now, about the basilisk...in one of the earliest versions of this, the basilisk had a baby basilisk (that’s quite big). And there was a scene like this:
> 
> Harry is following Malfoy and ends up in the Chamber of Secrets. There’s no Malfoy in sight, but there’s a _**basilisk**_ and a _**dragon**_ talking to each other!!  
>  **Harry** : 😱 I need to tell Hagrid!  
>  **Dragon!Draco:** Do not tell Hagrid or I will fry you!  
>  **Harry** : 😱 Also, errr, I can’t speak Dragon...  
>  **Dragon!Draco,** to the basilisk: Tell the speaker-not-prey-but-will-be-prey-very-soon to NOT TELL the gameskeeper!  
>  **Basilisk** : Ahh, Speaker, dragon wishes to inform you that you will soon be prey.  
>  **Harry** : WHAT??! 😱😱😱 [starts running]  
> Dragon!Draco pounces! It’s a floor-don! (like kabedon) Except it’s not romantic at all (￣ ￣|||) 
> 
> *  
> 
> 
> **Snape** : *blah blah blah* *insults Harry*  
>  **Draco** : * _this_ close to burning the portrait down*
> 
> **Draco: [** To save my loved ones] I would shoot down the spell and kill the bastard who dared.  
>  **Harry** : *thinking: _isn’t that...what you did when you came between me and Greyback……_ * 🥺🥺🥺🥺  
>  **Draco** : *thinking: _!!!!! He’s looking at me like that! I want to...I want to...no, I can’t_ T_T _It’s a bad time..._ *  
>  **Draco** : ahem, anyway, we should talk about Hogwarts...  
>  **Hogwarts** , the only audience: ノಠ_ಠノ
> 
> *meanwhile in the alternate universe*
> 
> Harry has successfully met the in-laws. He decides that if _he_ has to meet Draco's parents, then _Draco_ should meet his adoptive parents.  
>  **Draco** : But I've already met Granger and Weasley… (;¬_¬)  
>  **Harry** : !!!! DRACO!! I meant the Weasleys!!  
>  **Draco** : Oh. You do realise that the Malfoys and the Weasleys have a blood feud.  
>  **Harry:** Σ(°ロ°) It's real?  
>  **Draco** : We can consider our marriage a political one, between two enemy families...  
>  **Harry** : .......................  
>  **Draco:** We can roleplay later. We can ⬛⬛⬛ and ⬛⬛ and ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛  
>  **Harry** : 😳😳😳 👉👈 okay
> 
> Too angsty? Want something more lighthearted? Check out [Life Is The Flower (For Which Love Is The Honey)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221258) for some fluff and my lazy sleepy having-a-good-life original fic [Dao Of The Salted Fish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383728/chapters/72183675)!


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